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CATHERINE DE’ MEDIC! 


BY 
H. DE BALZAC 


Translated by 
CLARA BELL 


with a Preface by 


GEORGE SAINTSBURY 


NEW YORK 
THE F. M. LUPTON PUBLISHING COMPANY 


Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2007 with funding from 
Microsoft Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/cathdemedici0Obalziala 


College 
Library, 


Tae 
AVIS. 


SAGES) 
: PREFACE. ! 


3 Ts book (as to which it is important to remember the 
Sur if injustice is not to be done to the intentions of the 
author) has plenty of interest of more kinds than one ; 
but it is perhaps more interesting because of the place it 
holds in Balzac’s work than for itself. He had always 
considerable hankerings after the historical novel: his 
early and lifelong devotion to Scott would sufficiently 
account for that. More than one of the @uvres de Jeu- 
nesse attempts the form in a more or less conscious way: 
the Chowans, the first successful book, definitely attempts 
it; but by far the most ambitious attempt is to be found 
in the book before us. It is most probable that it was of 
this, if of anything of his own, that Balzac was thinking 
when, in 1846, he wrote disdainfully to Madame Hanska 
about Dumas, and expressed himself towards Les Trois 
Mousquetaires (which had whiled him through a day of 
cold and inability to work) nearly as ungratefully as 
Carlyle did towards Captain Marryat. And though it is, 
let it be repeated, a mistake, and a rather unfair mistake, 
to give such a title to the book as might induce readers to 
regard it as a single and definite novel, of which Catherine 
is the heroine, though it is made up of three parts written 
at very different times, it has a unity which the introduc- 
tion shows to some extent, and which a rejected preface 

_given by M. de Lovenjoul shows still better. 

To understand this, we must remember that Balzac, 
though not exactly an historical scholar, was a consider- 
able student of history; and that, although rather an 


amateur politician, he was a constant thinker and writer 
iii 


iv Preface 


on political subjects. We must add to these remembrances 
the fact of his intense interest in all such matters as 
Alchemy, the Elixir of Life, and so forth, to which the 
sixteenth century in general, and Catherine de’ Medici 
in particular, were known to be devoted. All these in- 
terests of his met in the present book, the parts of which 
appeared in inverse order, and the genesis of which is im- 
portant enough to make it desirable to incorporate some 
of the usual bibliographical matter in the substance of 
this preface. The third and shortest, Les Deux Réves, 
a piece partly suggestive of the famous Prophecy of Cazotte 
and other legends of the Revolution (but with more re- 
trospective than prospective view), is dated as early as 
1828 (before the turning-point), and was actually pub- 
lished in a periodicalin 1830. La Confidence des Ruggieri, 
written in 1836 (and, as I have noted in the general in- 
troduction, according to its author, in a single night) 
followed, and Le Martyr Calviniste, which had several 
titles, and was advertised as in preparation for a long time, 
did not come till 1841. 

It is unnecessary to say that all are interesting. The 
personages, both imaginary and historical, appear at times 
in a manner worthy of Balzac ; many separate scenes are 
excellent ; and, to those who care to perceive them, the 
various occupations of the author appear in the most in- 
teresting manner. Politically, his object was, at least by 
his own account, to defend the maxim that private and 
public morality are different ; that the policy of a state 
cannot be, and ought not to be, governed by the same con- 
siderations of duty to its neighbors as those which ought 
~ to govern the conduct of an individual. The very best 
men—those least liable to the slightest imputation of cor- 
rupt morals and motives—have endorsed this principle ; 
though it has been screamed at by a few fanatics, a some- 
what larger number of persons who found their account 
in so doing, and a great multitude of hasty, dense, or 


Preface v 


‘ 


foolish folk. But it was something of a mark of that 
amateurishness which spoilt Balzac’s dealing with the 
subject to choose the sixteenth century for his text. For 
every cool-headed student of history and ethics will admit 
that it was precisely the abuse of this principle at this 
time, and by persons of whom Catherine de’ Medici, if 
not the most blamable, has had the most blame put on 
her, that brought the principle itself into discredit. Be- 
tween the assertion that the strictest morality of the Ser- 
mon on the Mount must obtain between nation and nation, 
between governor and governed, and the maxim that in 
politics the end of public safety justifies any means what- 
ever, there is a perfectly immense gulf fixed. 

If, however, we turn from this somewhat academic point, 
and do not dwell very much on the occult and magical 
sides of the matter, interesting as they are, we shall be 
brought at once face to face with the question, is the 
handling of this book the right and proper one for an 
historical novel ? Can we in virtue of it rank Balzac (this 
is the test which he would himself, beyond all question, 
have accepted) a long way above Dumas and near Scott ? 

I must say that I can see no possibility of answer ex- 
cept, ‘‘ Certainly not.” For the historical novel depends 
almost more than any other division of the kind upon 
interest of story. Interest of story is not, as has been 
- several times pointed out, at any time Balzac’s main ap- 
peal, and he has succeeded in it here less than in most 
other places. He has discussed too much ; he has brought 
in too many personages without sufficient interest of plot ; 
but, above all, he exhibits throughout an incapacity to 
handle his materials in the peculiar way required. How 
long he was before he grasped ‘‘ the way to do it,” even 
on his own special lines, is the commonplace and refrain 
of all writing about him. Now, to this special kind he 
gave comparatively little attention, and the result is that 
he mastered it less than any other. In the best stories 


vi Preface 

of Dumas (and the best number some fifteen or twenty at 
least) the interest of narrative, of adventure, of what will 
happen to the personages, takes you by the throat at once, 
and never lets you go tillthe end. There is little or noth- 


_ ing of this sort here. The three stories are excellently 


' well-informed studies, very curious and interésting in divers 
ways. The Ruggieri is perhaps something more ; but it 
is, as its author no doubt honestly entitled it, eeu more 
an Etude Philosophique than an historical novelette. In 
short, this was not Balzac’s way. We need not be sorry— 
_it is very rarely necessary to be that—that he tried it ; we 
may easily forgive him for not recognizing the ease and 
certainty with which Dumas trod the path. But we 
should be most of all thankful that he did not himself 
enter it frequently, or ever pursue it far. 

The most important part of the bibliography of the book 
has been given above. The rest is a little complicated, 
and for its ins and outs reference must be made to the 
usual authority. It should be enough to say that the 
Martyr, under the title of Les Lecamus, first appeared in 
the Siécle during the spring of 1841. Sovverain published 
it as a book two years later with the other two, as Catherine 
de’ Medicis Expliquée. 'The second part, entitled, not La 
Confidence, but Le Secret des Ruggiert, had appeared much 
earlier in the Chronique de Paris during the winter of 
- 1836-37, and had been published as a book in the latter 
year ; it was joined to Catherine de’ Medicis Expliquée as 
above. The third part, after appearing in the Monde as 
early as May 1830, also appeared in the Deux Mondes for 
December of the same year, then became one of the Romans 
et Contes Philosophiques, then an Htude Philosophique, 
and in 1843 joined Catherine de’ Medicis Expliquée. The 
whole was inserted in the Comédie in 1846. 

G. 8, 


~ CATHERINE DE’ MEDICI 


TO MONSIEUR LE MARQUIS DE PASTORET, MEMBER OF THE 
ACADEMIE DES BEAUX-ARTS. 


When we consider the amazing number of volumes written to 
ascertain the spot where Hannibal crossed the Alps, without our 
knowing tothis day whether it was,as Whitaker and Rivaz say, 
by Lyons, Geneva, the Saint-Bernard, and the Valley of Aosta ; or, 
as we are told by Letronne, Follard, Saint-Simon, and Fortia 
d’Urban, by the Isére, Grenoble, Saint-Bonnet, Mont Genévre, 
Fenestrella, and the Pass of Susa; or, according to Larauza, by 
the Mont Cenis and Susa ; or, as Strabo, Polybius and de Luc tell 
us, by the Rhone, Vienne, Yenne, and the Mont du Chat; or, as 
certain clever people opine, by Genoa, la Bochetta, and la Scrivia 
—the view I hold, and which Napolcon had adopted—to say 
nothing of the vinegar with which some learned men have 
dressed the Alpine rocks, can we wonder, Monsieur le Marquis, to 
find modern history so much neglected that some most important 
points remain obscure, and that the most odious calumnies still 
weigh on names which ought to be revered ?—And it may be noted 
incidentally that by dint of explanations it has become problema- 
tical whether Hannibal ever crossed the Alps at all. Father Mé- 
nestrier believes that the Scoras spoken of by Polybius was the 
Sadne ; Letronne, Larauza, and Schweighauser believe it to be the 
Isére ; Cochard, a learned man of Lyons, identifies it with the 
Dréme. But to any one who has eyes, are there not striking 
geographical and linguistic affinities between Scoras and Scrivia, 
to say nothing of the almost certain fact that the Carthaginian 
fleet lay at la Spezzia or in the Gulf of Genoa ? 

Icould understand all this patient research if the battle of 
Cannae could be doubted ; but since its consequences are well 
known, whatis the use of blackening so much paper with theories 
that are but the Arabesque of hypothesis, so tospeak; while the 
most important history of later times, that of the Reformation, 
is so full of obscurities that the name remains unknown of the 


’ 


2 Catherine de’ Medici 


man! who was making a boat move by steam at Barcelona at the 
time when Luther and Calvin were inventing the revolt of mind ? 

We, I believe, after having made, each in his own -way, the 
same investigations as tothe great and noble character of Cath- 
erine de’ Medici, have come to the same opinion. So I thought 
that my historical studies on the subject might be suitably dedi- 
cated to a writer who has labored so long on the history of the 
Reformation ; and that Ishould thus do public homage, precious 
perhaps for its rarity, to the character and fidelity of a man true 
to the Monarchy. 


Paris, January, 1842. 


'The inventor of this experiment was probably Salomon of 
Caux, not of Caus. This great man was always unlucky ; after 
his death even his name was misspelt. Salomon, whose original 
portrait, at the age of forty-six, was discovered by the author of 
the Human Comedy, was born at Caux, in Normandy. 


INTRODUCTION 


WHEN men of learning are struck by a historical blunder, 
and try to correct it, ‘‘ Paradox!” is generally the cry ; 
but to those who thoroughly examine the history of — 
modern times, it is evident that historians are privileged 
liars, who lend their pen to popular beliefs, exactly as 
most of the newspapers of the day express nothing but the 
opinions of their readers. 

Historical independence of thought has been far less 
conspicuous among lay writers than among the priesthood. 
The purest light thrown on history has come from the 
Benedictines, one of the glories of France—so long, that 
is to say, as the interests of the monastic orders are notin _ 
question. Since the middle of the eighteenth century, 
some great and learned controversialists have arisen who, 
struck by the need for rectifying certain popular errors to 
which historians have lent credit, have published some re- 
markable works. Thus Monsieur Launoy, nicknamed the 
Evicter of Saints, made ruthless war on certain saints 
who have sneaked into the Church Calendar. Thus the 
rivals of the Benedictines, the too little known members 
of the Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-lettres, began 
their mémoires, their studious notes, full of patience, 
erudition, and logic, on certain obscure passages of history. 
Thus Voltaire, with an unfortunate bias, and sadly per- 
verted passions, often brought the light of his intellect to 
bear on historical prejudices. Diderot, with this end in 
view, began a book—much too long—ona period of the 
history of Imperial Rome. But for the French Revolution, 
criticism, as applied to history, might perhaps have laid 
up the materials for a good and true history of eae for 


4 Catherine de’ Medici 


which evidence had long been amassed by the great French 
Benedictines. Louis XVI., a man of clear mind, himself 
translated the English work, which so much agitated the 
last century, in which Walpole tried to explain the career 
of Richard III. 

How is it that persons so famous as kings and queens, 
so important as generals of great armies, become objects 


- of aversion or derision ? Half the world hesitates between 


the song on Marlborough and the history of England, as 
they do between popular tradition and history as concern- 
ing Charles IX. 

At all periods when great battles are fought between 
the masses and the authorities, the populace creates an 
ogresque figure—to coin a word for the sake of its exacti- 
tude. Thus in our own time, but for the Memorials of 
Saint-Helena, and the controversies of Royalists and Bon- 
-apartists, there was scarcely a chance but that Napoleon 
would have been misunderstood. Another Abbé de Pradt 
or two, a few more newspaper articles, and Napoleon from 
an Emperor would have become an Ogre. 

How is error propagated and accredited. The mystery 
is accomplished under our eyes without our discerning 
the process. No one suspects how greatly printing has 
helped to give body both to the envy which attends persons 
in high places, and to the popular irony which sums up 
the converse view of every great historical fact. For in- 
stance, every bad horse in France that needs flogging is 
called after the Prince de Polignac ; and so who knows 
what opinion the future may hold as to the Prince de 
Polignac’s coup d’Etat ? In consequence of a caprice of 
Shakespeare’s—a stroke of revenge perhaps, like that of 
Beaumarchais on Bergasse (Begearss)—Falstaff, in Eng- 
land, is a type of the grotesque ; his name raises a laugh, 
he is the King of Buffoons. Now, instead of being enor- 
mously fat, ridiculously amorous, vain, old, drunken, and 
a corrupter of youth, Falstaff was one of the most impor- 


eee Catherine de’ Medici 5 


tant figures of his time, a Knight of the Garter, holding 
high command. At the date of Henry V.’s accession, 
Falstaff was at most four-and-thirty. This General, who 
distinguished himself at'the battle of Agincourt, where he 
took the Duc d’Alengon prisoner, in 1420 took the town of 
Montereau, which was stoutly defended. Finally, under | 
Henry VI., he beat ten thousand Frenchmen with fifteen — 
hundred men who were dropping with fatigue and hunger. 
So much for valor ! 19 

If we turn to literature, Rabelais, among the French, a 
sober man who drank nothing but water, is thought of asa 
lover of good cheer and a persistent sot. Hundreds of ab- 
surd stories have been coined concerning the author of one 
of the finest books in French literature, Pantagrwel. 

Aretino, Titian’s friend, and the Voltaire of his day, is 
now credited with a reputation, in complete antagonism 
with his works and character, which he acquired by his 
over free wit, characteristic of the writings of an age when 
gross jests were held in honor, and queens and cardinals in- 
dited tales which are now considered licentious. Instances 
might be infinitely multiplied. 

In France, and at the most important period of our his- 
tory, Catherine de’ Medici has suffered more from popular 
error than any other woman, unless it be Brunehaut or 
Frédégonde ; while Marie de’ Medici, whose every action 
was prejudicial to France, has escaped the disgrace that 
shonld cover her name. Marie dissipated the treasure 
amassed by Henri IV. ; she never purged herself of the 
suspicion that she was cognizant of his murder; Eper- 
non, who had long known Ravaillac, and who did not parry 
his blow, was itinmate with the Queen ; she compelled her 
son to banish her from France, where she was fostering 
the rebellion of her other son, Gaston ; and Richelieu’s 
triumph over her on the Journée des Dupes was due solely 
to the Cardinal’s revealing to Louis XIII. certain docu- 
ments secreted after the death of Henry IV. 


6 Catherine de’ Medici . 


Catherine de’ Medici, on the contrary, saved the throne 
of France, she maintained the Royal authority under cir- 
cumstances to which more than one great prince would 
have succumbed. Face to face with such leaders of the 
factions and ambitions of the houses of Guise and of Bour- 
bon as the two Cardinals de Lorraine and the two 
‘« Balafrés,” the two Princes de Condé, Queen Jeanne 
d’Albret, Henri IV., the Connétable de Montmorency, 
Calvin, the Colignys, and Theodore de Béze, she was forced 
to put forth the rarest fine qualities, the most essential 
gifts of statesmanship, under the fire of the Calvinist 
press. These, at any rate, are indisputable facts. And 
to the student who digs deep into the history of the 
sixteenth century in France, the figure of Catherine de’ 
Medici stands out as that of a great king. 

When once calumnies are undermined by facts labori- 
ously brought to light from under the contradictions of 
pamphlets and false anecdotes, everything is explained to 
the glory of this wonderful woman, who had none of the 
weakness of her sex, who lived chaste in the midst of the 
gallantries of the most licentious Court in Europe, and 
who, notwithstanding her lack of money, erected noble 
buildings, as if to make good the losses caused by the de- 
structive Calvinists, who injured Art as deeply as they did 
the body politic. 

Hemmed in between a race of princes who proclaimed 
themselves the heirs of Charlemagne, and a factious 
younger branch that was eager to bury the Connétable de 
Bourbon’s treason under the throne; obliged, too, to fight 
down a heresy on the verge of devouring the Monarchy, 
without friends, and aware of treachery in the chiefs of 
the Catholic party and of republicanism in the Calvinists, 
Catherine used the most dangerous but the surest of politi- 
cal weapons—Craft. She determined to deceive by turns 
the party that was anxious to secure the downfall of the 
House of Valois, the Bourbons who aimed at the Crown, 


Cathoriiede. Medici 7 


and the Reformers—the Radicals of that day, who dreamed 
of an impossible republic, like those of our own day, who, 
however, have nothing to reform. Indeed, so long as she 
lived, the Valois sat on the throne. ‘The great de Thou 
understood the worth of this woman when he exclaimed, 
on hearing of her death— 

“Tt is not a woman, it is Royalty that dies in her !” 

Catherine had, in fact, the sense of Royalty in the high- 
est degree, and sa defended it with admirable courage ane 
persistency. The reproaches flung at her by Calvinist 
writers are indeed her glory; she earned them solely 
by her triumphs. And how was she to triumph but by 
cunning ? Here lies the whole question. 

As to violence—that method bears on one of the most 
hotly disputed points of policy, which, in recent days, has 
been answered here, on the spot where a big stone from 
Egypt has been placed to wipe out the memory of regicide, 
and to stand as an emblem of the materialistic policy 
which now rules us ; it was answered at les Carmes and at 
the Abbaye ; it was answered on the steps of Saint Roch ; 
it was answered in front of the Louvre in 1830, and again 
by the people against the King, as it has since been an- 
swered once more by la Fayette’s ‘ best of all republics’ 
against the republican rebellion, at Saint-Merri and the 
Rue Transnonnain. 

Every power, whether legitimate or illegitimate, must 
defend itself when it is attacked ; but, strange to say, 
while the people is heroic when it triumphs over the nobil- 
ity, the authorities are murderers when they oppose the 
people! And, finally, if after their appeal to force they 
succumb, they are regarded as effete idiots. The present 
Government (1840) will try to save itself, by two laws, 
from the same evil as attacked Charles X., and which he 
tried to scotch by two decrees. Is not this a bitter mock- 
ery ? May those in power meet cunning with cunning ? 
Ought they to kill those who try to kill thei ? 





8 | Catherine de’ Medici 


The massacres of the Revolution are the reply to the 
massacre of Saint-Bartholomew. The People, being King, 
did by the nobility and the King as the King and the 
nobility did by the rebels in the sixteenth century. And 
popular writers, who know full well that, under sim- 
ilar conditions, the people would do the same again, 
are inexcusable when they blame Catherine de’ Medici and 
Charles IX. 

‘* All power is a permanent conspiracy,” said Casimir 
Périer, when teaching what power ought to be. We ad- 
mire the anti-social maxims published by audacious writers ; 
why, then, are social truths received in France with such 


Bhs 


_ disfavor when they are boldly stated ? This question alone 


sufficiently accounts for historical mistakes. Apply the 
solution of this problem to the devastating doctrines which 
flatter popular passion, and to the conservative doctrines 
which would repress the ferocious or foolish attempts of 
the populace, and you will see the reason why certain per- 
sonages are popular or unpopular. Laubardemont and 
Laffemas, like some people now living, were devoted to the 
maintenance of the power they believed in. Soldiers and 
judges, they obeyed a Royal authority. D’Orthez, in our 
day, would be discharged from office for misinterpreting 
orders from the Ministry, but Charles X. left him to gov- 
ern his province. The power of the masses is accountable 
to no one; the power of one is obliged to account to its 
subjects, great and small alike. 

Catherine, like Philip II. and the Duke of Alva, like 
the Gnises and Cardinal Granvelle, foresaw the future to 
which the Reformation was dooming Europe. They saw 
monarchies, religion, and power all overthrown. Cath- 
erine, from the Cabinet of the French kings, forthwith 
issued sentence of death on that inquiring spirit which 


’ threatened modern society—a sentence which Louis XIV. 


finally carried out. Therevocation of the Edict of Nantes 
was a measure that proved unfortunate simply in con- 


\ as | Catherine de’ Medici 9 


sequence of the irritation Louis XIV. had aroused in 
Europe. At any other time England, Holland, and the 
German Empire would not have encouraged on their 
territory French exiles and French rebels. 

Why, in these days, refuse to recognize the greatness 
which the majestic adversary of that most barren heresy 
derived from the struggle itself ? Calvinists have written 
strongly against Charles IX.’s stratagems; but travel 
through France: as you see the ruins of so many fine 
churches destroyed, and consider the vast breaches made 
by religious fanatics in the social body ; when you learn 
the revenges they took, while deploring the mischief of 
individualism—the plague of France to-day, of which the 
germ lay in the questions of liberty of conscience which 
they stirred up—you will ask yourself on which side were 
the barbarians. There are always, as Catherine says in 
the third part of this Study, ‘‘ unluckily, in all ages, 
hypocritical writers ready to bewail two hundred scoundrels 
killed in due season.” Czesar, who tried to incite the Senate 
to pity for Catiline’s party, would very likely have con- 
quered Cicero if he had had newspapers and an Opposition 
at his service. ; 

Another consideration accounts for Catherine’s histori- 
cal and popular disfavor. In France the Opposition has 
always been Protestant, because its policy has never been 
anything but negative ; it has inherited the theories of 
the Lutherans, the Calvinists, and the Protestants on the 
terrible texts of liberty, tolerance, progress, and philan- 
thropy. The opponents of power spent two centuries in 
establishing the very doubtful doctrine of freewill. Two 
more were spent in working out the first corollary of free- 
will—liberty of conscience. Our age is striving to prove 
the second—political liberty. 

Standing between the fields already traversed and the fields 
as yet untrodden, Catherine and the Church proclaimed the . 
salutary principle of modern communities, Una fides, unus 


10 Catherine de’ Medici 


Dominus, but asserting their right of life and death over 
all innovators. Even if she had been conquered, succeed- 
ing times have shown that Catherine wasright. The out- 
come of freewill, religious liberty, and political liberty 

(note, this does not mean civil liberty) is France as we 
now see it. 

And what is France in 1840? A country exclusively 
absorbed in material interests, devoid of patriotism, devoid 
of conscience ; where authority is powerless ; where elec- 
toral rights, the fruit of freewill and political liberty, 
raise none but mediocrities ; where brute force is neces- 
sary to oppose the violence of the populace; where dis- 
cussion, brought to bear on the smallest matter, checks 
every action of the body politic ; and where individualism 
—the odious result of the indefinite subdivision of property, 
which destroys family cohesion—will devour everything 
even the nation, which sheer selfishness will some day lay 
open to invasion.. Men will say, ‘ Why not the Tzar ?’ as 
they now say, ‘ Why not the Duc d’Orléans?’ We do 
not care for many things even now; fifty years hence 
we shall care for nothing. 

Therefore, according to Catherine—and according to all 
who wish to see Society soundly organized—man as a 
social unit, as a subject, has no freewill, has no right to 
accept the dogma of liberty of conscience, or to have 
political liberty. Still, as no community can subsist with- 
out some guarantee given to the subject against the sov- 
ereign, the subject derives from that certain liberties under 
restrictions. Liberty—no, but liberties—yes ; well defined 
and circumscribed liberties. This is in the nature of 
things. For instance it is beyond human power to fetter 
freedom of thought ; and no sovereign may ever tamper 
with money. 

The great politicians who have failed in this long contest 
—it has gone on for five centuries—have allowed their 
subjects wide liberties; but they never recognize their 


Catherine de’ Medici ~ 11 


liberty to publish anti-social opinions, nor the unlimited 
freedom of the subject. To them the words subject and 
jree are, politically speaking, a contradiction in terms; 
and, in the same way, the statement that all citizens 
are equal is pure nonsense, and contradicted by Nature 
every hour. ‘To acknowledge the need for religion, the 
need for authority, and at the same time to leave all men 
at liberty to deny religion, to attack its services, to oppose 
the exercise of authority by the public and published ex- 
pression of opinion, is an impossibility such as the Catholics 
of the sixteenth century would have nothing to say to, 
Alas! the triumph of Calvinism will cost France more yet 
than it has ever done ; for the sects of to-day—religious, 
political, humanitarian, and leveling—are the train of 
Calvinism ; and when we see the blunders of those in power, 
their contempt for intelligence, their devotion to those 
material interests in which they seek support, and which 
are the most-delusive of all props, unless by the special 
aid of Providence the genius of destruction must certainly 
win the day from the genius of conservatism. ‘The attack- 
ing forces, who have nothing to lose, and everything to 
win, are thoroughly in agreement ; whereas their wealthy 
opponents refuse to make any sacrifice of weiss or of 
self-conceit to secure defenders. 

Printing came to the aid of the resistance inaugurated 
by the Vaudois and the Albigenses. As soon as liuman 
thought—no longer condensed, as it had necessarily been 
in order to preserve the most communicable form—had 
assumed a multitude of garbsand become the very people, 
instead of remaining in some sense divinely axiomatic, 
there were two vast armies to contend with—that of ideas 
and that of men. Royal power perished in the struggle, 
and we, in France, at this day are looking on at its last 
coalition with elements which make it difficult, not to say 
impossible, 

Power is action ; the electoral principle is discussion. 


12 Catherine de’ Medici 


No political action is possible when discussion is perma- 
nently established. So we ought to regard the woman as 
truly great who foresaw that future, and fought it so 
bravely. The House of Bourbon was able to succeed to 
the House of Valois, and owed it to Catherine de’ Medici 
that it found that crown to wear. If the second Balafré 
had been alive, it is very doubtful that the Béarnais, strong 
as he was, could have seized the throne, seeing how dearly 
it was sold by the Duc de Mayenne and the remnant of 
the Guise faction. The necessary steps taken by Catherine, 
who had the deaths of Frangois II. and Charles IX. on her 
soul—both dying opportunely for her safety—are not, it 
must be noted, what the Calvinist and modern writers blame 
her for! Though there was no poisoning, as some serious 
authors have asserted, there were other not less criminal 
plots. It is beyond question that she hindered Paré from 
saving one, and murdered the other morally by inches. 
But the swift death of Frangois II. and the skilfully 
contrived end of Charles IX. did no injury to Calvinist 
interests. ‘The causes of these two events concerned only 
the uppermost sphere, and were never suspected by writers 
or by the lower orders at the time ; they were guessed only 
by de Thou, by l’H6pital, by men of the highest talents, 
or the chiefs of the two parties who coveted and clung to 
the Crown, and who thought such means indispensable. _ 
Popular songs, strange to say, fell foul of Catherine’s 
morality. The anecdote is known of a soldier who was 
roasting a goose in the guardroom of the Chateau of 
Tours while Catherine and Henri IV. were holding a con- 
ference there, and who sang a ballad in which the Queen 
was insultingly compared to the largest cannon in the 
hands of the Calvinists. Henri IV. drew his sword to go 
out and kill the man; Catherine stopped him, and only 
shouted out—- 
‘It is Catherine who provides the goose ! ” 
Though the executions at Amboise were attributed to 


Catherine de’ Medici 18 


Catherine, and the Calvinists made that able woman re- 
sponsible for all the inevitable disasters of the struggle, - 
she must be judged by posterity, like Robespierre at a 
future date. 

And Catherine was cruelly punished for her preference 
for the Duc d’Anjou, which made her hold her two elder 
sons so cheap. Henri III. having ceased, like all spoilt 
children, to care for his mother, rushed voluntarily into 
such debauchery as made him, what the mother had made 
Charles IX., a childless husband, a king without an heir. 
Unhappily, Catherine’s youngest son, the Duc d’Alengon, 
died—a natural death. The Queen-mother made every 
effort to control her son’s passions. History preserves 
the tradition of a supper to nude women given in the 
banqueting-hall at Chenonceaux on his return from Po- 
land, but it did not cure Henri III. of his bad habits. 

This great Queen’s last words summed up her policy, 
which was indeed so governed by good sense that we see 
the Cabinets of every country putting it into practise in 
similar circumstances. 

‘¢ Well cut, my son,” said she, when Henri III. came to 
her, on her deathbed, to announce that the enemy of the 
throne had been put to death. ‘‘Now you must sew up 
again.” . 

She thus expressed her opinion that the sovereign mus 
make friends with the House of Lorraine, and make it 
useful, as the only way to hinder the effects of the Guises’ 
hatred, by giving them a hope of circumventing the King. 
But this indefatigable cunning of the Italian and the 
woman was incompatible with Henri III.’s life of de- 
bauchery. When once the Great Mother was dead, the 
Mother of Armies (Mater castrorum), the policy of the ~ 
Valois died too. 


Before attempting to write this picture of manners in ac- 
tion, the author patiently and minutely studied the prin- 


1455.2 Catherine de’ Medici 


cipal reigns of French history, the quarrels of the Bur- 
gundians and the Armagnacs, and those of the Guises and 
the Valois, each in the forefront of a century. His pur- 
pose was to write a picturesque history of France. Isabella 
of Bavaria, Catherine and Marie de’ Medici, each fills a 
conspicuous place, dominating from the fourteenth to the 
seventeenth centuries, and leading up to Louis XIV. 

Of these-three queens, Catherine was the most interest- 
ing and the most beautiful. Hers was a manly rule, not 
disgraced by the terrible amours of Isabella, nor those, 
even more terrible though less known, of Marie de’ Medici. 
Isabella brought the English into France to oppose her 
son, was in love with her brother-in-law, the Duc d’Orléans, 
and with Boisbourdon. Marie de’ Medici’s account is still 
heavier. Neither of them had any political genius. 

In the course of these studies and comparisons, the 
author became convinced of Catherine’s greatness; by 
initiating himself into the peculiar difficulties of her posi- 
tion, he discerned how unjust historians, biassed by Prot- 
estantism, had been to this queen; and the outcome was 
the three sketches here presented, in which some erroneous 
opinions of her, of those who were about her, and of the 
aspect of the times, are combated. 

The work is placed among my Philosophical Studies, 
because it illustrates the spirit of a period, and plainly 
shows the influence of opinions. 

But before depicting the political arena on which Cath- 
erine comes into collision with the two great obstacles in 
her career, it is necessary to give a short account of her 
previous life from the point of view of an impartial critic, 
so that the reader may form a general idea of this large 
and royal life up to the time when the first part of this 
narrative opens. 

Never at any period, in any country, or in any ruling 
family was there more contempt felt for legitimacy than 
by the famous race of the Medici (in French commonly 


Catherine de’ Medici 15 


written and pronounced Medicis). They held the same 
opinion of monarchy as is now professed in Russia: The 
ruler on whom the crown devolves is the real and legiti- 
mate monarch. Mirabean was justified in saying, ‘‘ There 
has been but one mésalliance in my family—that with the 
Medici” ; for, notwithstanding the exertions of well-paid 
genealogists, it is certain that the Medici, till the time of 
Avérardo de’ Medici, gonfaloniere of Florence in 1314, 
were no more than Florentine merchants of gréat wealth. 
The first personage of the family who filled a conspicuous 
place in the history of the great Tuscan Republic was 
Salvestro de’ Medici, gonfaloniere in 1378. This Salvestro 
had two sons—Cosmo and Lorenzo de’ Medici. 

From Cosmo descended Lorenzo the Magnificent, the 
Duc de Nemours, the Duke of Urbino, Catherine’s father, 
Pope Leo X., Pope Clement VII., and Alessandro, not 
indeed Duke of Florence, as he is sometimes called, 
but Duke della citta di Penna, a title created by Pope 
Clement VII. as a step towards that of Grand Duke of 
Tuscany. 

-Lorenzo’s descendants were Lorenzino—the Brutus of 
Florence—who killed Duke Alessandro ; Cosmo, the first 
Grand Duke, and all the rulers of Florence till 1737, when 
the family became extinct. 

But neither of the two branches—that of Cosmo or that 
of Lorenzo—succeeded in a direct line, till the time when 
Marie de’ Medici’s father subjugated Tuscany, and the 
Grand Dukes inherited in regular succession. 'Thus Ales- 
sandro de’ Medici, who assumed the title of Duke della 
citta di Penna, and whom Lorenzino assassinated, was 
the son of the Duke of Urbino, Catherine’s father, by a 
Moorish slave. Hence Lorenzino, the legitimate son of 
Lorenzo, had a double right to kill Alessandro, both as a 
usurper in the family and as an oppressor of the city. 
Some historians have indeed supposed that Alessandro was 
the son of Clement VII. ‘The event that led to the 


16 _ Catherine de’ Medici 


recognition of this bastard as head of the Republic was his 
marriage with Margaret of Austria, the natural daughter 
of Charles V. 

Francesco de’ Medici, the husband of Bianca Capello, 
recognized as his son a child of low birth bought by that 
notorious Venetian lady; and, strange to say, Fernando, 
succeeding Francesco, upheld the hypothetical rights of 
this boy. Indeed, this youth, known as Don Antonio 
de’ Medici, was recognized by the family during four ducal 
reigns ; he won the affection of all, did them important 
service, and was universally regretted. 

Almost all the early Medici had natural children whose 
lot was in every case splendid. The Cardinal Giulio 
de’ Medici, Pope Clement VII., was the illegitimate son 
of Giuliano I. Cardinal Ippolito de’ Medici was also a 
bastard, and he was within an ace of being Pope and head 
of the family. 

Certain inventors of anecdote havea story that the Duke 
of Urbino, Catherine’s father, told her: ‘* A figlia d’in- 
ganno non manca mai figliuolanza” (A clever woman can 
always have children, @ propos to some natural defect in 
Henri, the second son of Francois I., to whom she was 
betrothed). This Lorenzo de’ Medici, Catherine’s father, 
had married, for the second time, in 1518, Madeleine de 
la Tour d’Auvergne, and died in 1519, a few days after 
his wife, who died in giving birth to Catherine. Catherine 
was thus fatherless and motherless as soon as she saw the 
light. Hence the strange events of her childhood, check- 
ered by the violent struggles of the Florentines, in the 
attempt to recover their liberty, against the Medici who 
were determined to govern Florence, but who were so 
circumspect in their policy that Catherine’s father took 


at the title of Duke of Urbino. 


At his death, the legitimate head of the House of the 
Medici was Pope Leo X., who appointed Giuliano’s illegiti- 
mate son, Giulio de’ Medici, then Cardinal, Governor of 


Catherine de’ Medici 17 


Florence. Leo X. was Catherine’s grand-uncle, and this 
Cardinal Giulio, afterwards Clement VII., was her deft- 
handed uncle only. This it was which made Brantéme so 
wittily speak of that Pope as an ‘‘ uncle in Our Lady.” 

During the siege by the Medici to regain possession of 
Florence, the Republican party, not satisfied with having 
shut up Catherine,’ then nine years old, in a convent, 
after stripping her of all her possessions, proposed to ex- 
pose her to the fire of the artillery, between two battle- 
ments—the suggestion of a certain Battista Cei. Bernardo. 
Castiglione went even further in a council held to deter- 
mine on some conclusion to the business ; he advised that, 
rather than surrender Catherine to the Pope who de- 
manded it, she should be handed over to the tender 
mercies of the soldiers. All revolutions of the populace 
are alike. Catherine’s policy, always in favor of Royal - 
authority, may have been fostered by such scenes, which 
an Italian girl of nine could not fail to understand. 

Alessandro’s promotion, to which Clement VII., himself 
a bastard, largely contributed, was no doubt owing partly- 
to the fact of his being illegitimate, and to Charles V.’s 
affection for his famous natural daughter Margaret. 
Thus the Pope and the Emperor were moved by similar 
feelings. At this period Venice was mistress of the com- 
merce of the world; Rome governed its morals ; Italy 
was still supreme, by the poets, the generals, and the 
statesmen_who were her sons. At no other time has any 
one country had so curious or so various a multitude of 
men of genius. There were so many, that the smallest 
princelings were superior men. Italy was overflowing 
with talent, daring, science, poetry, wealth, and gallantry, 
though rent by constant internal wars, and at all times 
the arena on which conquerors met to fight for her fairest 
provinces. : 

When men are so great, they are not afraid to confess 


their weakness ; hence, no doubt, this golden age for 
2 


Sees Catherine de’ Medici 


bastards. And it is but justice to delare that these illegit- 
imate sons of the Medici were ardent for the glory and 
_ the advancement of the family, alike in possessions and 
in power. And as soon as the Duke della citta di Penna, 
the Moorish slave’s son, was established as Tyrant of 
Florence, he took up the interest shown by Pope Clement 
VII. for Lorenzo II.’s daughter, now eleven years of age. 

As we study the march of events and of men in that 
strange sixteenth century, we must never forget that the 
chief element of political conduct was unremitting craft, 
destroying in every nature the upright conduct, the 
squareness which imagination looks for in eminent men. 
In this, especially, lies Catherine’s absolution. This 
observation, in fact, disposes of all the mean and foolish | 
~ accusations brought against her by the writers of the re- 
formed faith. It was indeed the golden age of this type 
of policy, of which Machiavelli and Spinoza formulated 
the code, and Hobbes and Montesquieu ; for the Dialogue 
of “‘Sylla and Eucrates” expresses Montesquieu’s real 
mind, which he could not set forth in any other form in 
consequence of his connection with the Encyclopedists. 
These principles are to this day the unconfessed morality 
of every Cabinet where schemes of vast dominion are 
worked out. In France we were severe on Napoleon 
when he exerted this Italian genius which was in his 
blood, and its plots did not always succeed ; but Charles 
V., Catherine, Philip II., Giulio II., would -have done 
just as he did in the affairs of Spain. 

At the time when.Catherine was born, history, if 
related from the point of view of honesty, would seem an 
impossible romance. Charles V., while forced to uphold 
the Catholic Church against the attacks of Lither, who 
by threatening the tiara threatened his throne, allowed 
Rome to be besieged, and kept Pope Clement VII. in 
prison. This same Pope, who had no more bitter foe 
than Charles V., cringed to him that he might place 


Catherine de’ Medici 19 


Alessandro de’ Medici at Florence, and the Emperor gave 
his daughter in marriage to the bastard Duke. No sooner 
was he firmly settled there than Alessandro, in concert 
with the Pope, attempted to injure Charles V. by an 
alliance, through Catherine de’ Medici, with Francis L., 
and both promised to assist the French king to conquer 
ltaly. 

Lorenzino de’ Medici became Alessandro’s boon com- 
panion, and pandered to him to get an opportunity of kill- 
ing him ; and Filippo Strozzi, one of the loftiest spirits of 
that age, regarded this murder with such high esteem 
that he vowed that each of his sons should marry one of 
the assassin’s daughters. The sons religiously fulfilled 
the father’s pledge at a time when each of them, under 
Catherine’s protection, could have made a splendid alli- 
ance; for one was Doria’s rival, and the other Marshal of 
France. 

Cosmo de’ Medici, Alessandro’s successor, avenged the 
death of the Tyrant with great cruelty, and persistently 
for twelve years, during which his hatred never flagged 
against the people who had, after all, placed him in power. 
He was eighteen years of age when he succeeded to the 
government; his first act was to annul the rights of 
Alessandro’s legitimate sons, at the time when he was 
avenging Alessandro! Charles V. confirmed the dispos- 
session of his grandson, and recognized Cosmo instead of 
Alessandro’s son. 

Cosmo, raised to the throne by Cardinal Cibo, at once 
sent the prelate into exile. ‘Then Cardinal Cibo accused 
his creature, Cosmo, the first Grand Duke, of having 
tried to poison Alessandro’s son. The Grand Duke, as 
jealous of his authority as Charles V. was of his, abdicated, 
like the Emperor, in favor of his son Francesco, after 
ordering the death of Don Garcias, his other son, in re- 
venge for that of Cardinal Giovanni de’ Medici, whom 
Garcias had assassinated. 


~ 


20 Catherine de’ Medici 


Cosmo I. and his son Francesco, who ought to have 
been devoted, soul and body, to the Royal House of 
France, the only power able to lend them support, were 
the humble servants of Charles VY. and Philip II., and 
consequently the secret, perfidious, and cowardly foes of 
Catherine de’ Medici, one of the glories of their race. 

Such are the more important features—contradictory and 
illogical indeed—the dishonest acts, the dark intrigues 
of the House of the Medici alone. From this sketch 
some idea may be formed of the other princes of Italy and 
Europe. Every envoy from Cosmo I. to the Court of 
France had secret instructions to poison Strozzi, Queen 
Catherine’s relation, when he should find him there, 
Charles V. had three ambassadors from Francis I. mur- 
dered. 


It was early in October 1533 that the Duke della citta 
di Penna left Florence for Leghorn, accompanied by 
Catherine de’ Medici, sole heiress of Lorenzo II. The 
Duke and the Princess of Florence, for this was the title 
borne by the girl, now fourteen years of age, left the city 
with a large following of servants, officials, and secretaries, 
preceded by men-at-arms, and escorted by a mounted 
guard. The young Princess as yet knew nothing of her 
fate, excepting that the Pope and Duke Alessandro were 
to have an interview at Leghorn; but her uncle, Filippo 
Strozzi, soon told her of the future that lay before her. 

Filippo Strozzi had married Clarissa de’ Medici, whole 
sister to Lorenzo de’ Medici, Duke of Urbino, Catherine’s 
father; but this union, arranged quite as much with a 
view to converting one of the stoutest champions of the 
popular cause to the support of Medici as to secure the 
- recall of that then exiled family, never shook the tenets 
of the rough soldier who was persecuted by his party for 
having consented to it. In spite of some superficial 
change of conduct, somewhat overruled by this alliance, 


Catherine de’ Medici oar i 


he remained faithful to the popular side, and declared 
against the Medici as soon as he perceived their scheme of 
subjugating Florence. This great man even refused the 
offer of a principality from Leo X. At that time Filippo 
Strozzi was a victim to the policy of the Medici, so shifty 
in its means, so unvarying in its aim. 

After sharing the Pope’s misfortunes and captivity, 
when, surprised by Colonna; he took refuge in the castle 
of Saint-Angelo, he was given up by Clement VII. as a 
hostage and carried to Naples. As soon as the Pope was 
free, he fell upon his foes, and Strozzi was then near being 
killed ; he was forced to pay an enormous bribe to get out 
of the prison, where he was closely guarded. As soon as 
he was at liberty, with the natural trustfulness of an honest 
man, he was simple enough to appear before Clement VIL., 
who perhaps had flattered himself that he was rid of him. 
The Pope had so much to be ashamed of that he received 
Strozzi very ungraciously. Thus Strozzi had very early 
begun his-apprenticeship to the life of disaster, which is 
that of a man who is honest in politics, and whose con- 
science will not lend itself to the caprices of opportunity, 
whose actions are pleasing only to virtue, which is perse- 
cuted by all—by the populace, because it withstands their 
blind passions ; by authority, because it resists its usurpa- 
tions. 

The life of these great citizens is a martyrdom, through 
which they have nothing to support them but the strong 
voice of conscience, and the sense of social duty, which in 
all cases dictates their conduct, 

There were many such men in the Republic of Florence, 
all as great as Strozzi and as masterly as their adversaries 
on the Medici side, though beaten by Florentine cunning. 
In the conspiracy of the Pazzi, what can be finer than the 
attitude of the head of that house? His trade was im- 
mense, and he settled all his accounts with Asia, the Le- 
vant, and Europe before carrying out that great plot, to 


22 Catherine de’ Medici 


“ 
the end that his correspondents should not be the losers if 
he should fail. : 

And the history of the rise of the Medici family in the 
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries is one of the finest that 
remains unwritten, though men of great genius have at- 
tempted it. It is not the history of a republic, or of any 
particular community or phase of civilization; it is the 
history of political man, and the eternal history of political 
‘developments, that of usurpers and conquerors. 

On his return to Florence, Filippo Strozzi restored the 
ancient form of government, and banished Ippolito de’ 
Medici, another bastard, as well as Alessandro, with whom 
he was now acting. But he then was afraid of the incon- 
stancy of the populace ; andas he dreaded Pope Clement’s 
vengeance, he went to take charge of a large commercial 
house he had at Lyons in correspondence with his bankers 
at Venice and Rome, in France, and in Spain. A strange 
fact! These men who bore the burden of public affairs 
as well as that of a perennial struggle with the Medici, to 
say nothing of their squabbles with their own party, could 
also endure the cares of commerce and speculation, of 
banking with all its complications, which the vast multi- 
plicity of coinages and frequent forgeries made far more 
difficult then than now. ‘The word banker is derived from 
the bench on which they sat, and which served also to ring 
the gold and silver pieces on. Strozzi found in his adored 
wife’s death a pretext to offer to the Republican party, 
whose police is always all the more terrible because every- 
body is a voluntary spy in the name of Liberty, which 
justifies allthings. — 

Filippo’s return to Florence happened just at the time 
when the city was compelled to bow to Alessandro’s yoke ; 
but he had previously been to see Pope Clement, with 
whom matters were so promising that his feelings towards 
Strozzi had changed. In the moment of triumph the 
Medici so badly needed such a man as Strozzi, were it only 


Catherine de’ Medici 23 


to lend a grace to Alessandro’s assumption of dignity, that 
Clement persuaded him to sit on the bastard’s council, 
which was about to take oppressive measures, and Filippo 
had accepted a diploma as senator. But for the last two 
years and a half—like Seneca and Burrhus with Nero—he 
had noted the beginnings of tyranny. He found himself 
the object of distrust to the populace, and so little in favor 
with the Medici, whom he opposed, that he foresaw a catas- 
trophe. And as soon as he heard from Alessandro of the 
negotiations for the marriage of Catherine with a French 
Prince, which were perhaps to be concluded at Leghorn, 
where the contracting powers had agreed to meet, he re- 
solved to go to France and follow the fortunes of his niece, 
who would need a guardian. Alessandro, delighted to be 
quit of a man so difficult to manage in what concerned 
Florence, applauded this decision, which spared him a 
murder, and advised Strozzi to place himself at the head 
of Catherine’s household. 

In point of fact, to dazzle the Prongh Court, the Medici 
had constituted a brilliant suite for the young girl whom 
they quite incorrectly styled the Princess of Florence, and 
who was also called the Duchess of Urbino. ‘The proces- 
sion, at the head of it Duke Alessandro, Catherine, and 
Strozzi, consisted of more than a thousand persons, exclu- 
sive of the escort and serving men ; and when the last of - 
them were still at the gate of Florence, the foremost had 
already got beyond the first village outside the town—where 
straw plait for hats is now made. : 

It was beginning to be generally known that Catherine 
was to marry ason of Francis the First, but as yet it was 
no more than a rumor which found confirmation in the 
country from this triumphant progress from Florence to 
Leghorn. From the preparations required, Catherine 
suspected that her marriage was in question, and her 
uncle revealed to her the abortive scheme of her ambitious 
family, who had aspired to the hand of the Dauphin, 


» 


24 Catherine de’ Medici 


Duke Alessandro still hoped that the Duke of Albany 
might succeed in changing the determination of the French 
King, who, though anxious to secure the aid of the 
Medici in Italy, would only give them the Duc d’Orléans. 
This narrowness lost Italy to France, and did not hinder 
Catherine from being Queen. 

This Duke of Albany, the son of Alexander Stewart, 
brother of James III. of Scotland, had married Anne de 
la Tour de Boulogne, sister to Madeleine, Catherine’s 
mother ; he was thus her maternal uncle. It was through 
her mother that Catherine was so rich and connected with 
so many families ; for, strangely enough, Diane de Poi- 
tiers, her rival, was also her cousin. Jean de Poitiers, 
Diane’s father, was son of Jeanne de la Tour de > Boulogne, 
the Duchess of Urbino’s aunt. Catherine was also related 
to Mary Stewart, her daughter-in-law. 

Catherine was now informed that her dower in money 
would amount to a hundred thousand ducats. The ducat 
was a gold piece as large as one of our old louis-d’or, but 
_ only half as thick. Thus a hundred thousand ducats in 
those days represented, in consequence of the high value 
of gold, six millions of francs at the present time, the 
ducat being worth about twelve francs. The importance 
of the banking-house of Strozzi, at Lyons, may be im- 
agined from this, as it was his factor there who paid over 
the twelve hundred thousand livres in gold. The counties 
of Auvergne and Lauraguais also formed part of Cath- 
erine’s portion, and the Pope Clement VII. made her a gift 
of a hundred thousand ducats more in jewels, precious 
stones, and other wedding gifts, to which Duke Alessandro 
contributed. 

On reaching Leghorn, Catherine, still so young, must 
have been flattered by the extraordinary magnificence dis- 
played by Pope Clement VII., her ‘‘ uncle in Our Lady,” 
then the head of the House of Medici, to crush the Court 
of France. He had arrived at the port in one of his 


he 
E 


Catherine de’ Medici 25 


galleys hung with crimson satin trimmed with gold fringe, 
and covered with an awning of cloth of gold. This barge, 
of which the decorations had cost nearly twenty thousand 
ducats, contained several rooms for the use of Henri de 
France’s future bride, furnished with the choicest curios- 
ities the Medici had been able to collect. The oarsmen, 
magnificently dressed, and the seamen were under the 
captaincy of a Prior of the Order of the Knights of Rhodes, 
The Pope’s household filled three more barges. ; 

The Duke of Albany’s galleys, moored by the side of 
the Pope’s, formed with these, a considerable flotilla. 

Duke Alessandro presented the officers of Catherine’s 
household to the Pope, with whom he held a secret con- 
ference, introducing to him, as seems probable, Count 
Sebastian Montecuculi, who had just left the Emperor’s 
service—rather suddenly, it was said—and the two Gen- 
erals, Antonio de Leyva and Fernando Gonzaga. Was 
there a premeditated plan between these two bastards to 
make the Duc d’Orléans the Dauphin? What was the 
reward promised to Count Sebastian Montecuculi, who, 
before entering the service of Charles V., had studied 
medicine ? History is silent on these points. We shall 
see indeed in what obscurity the subject is wrapped. It 
is so great that some serious and conscientious historians 
have recently recognized Montecuculi’s innocence. 

Catherine was now officially informed by the Pope him- 
self of the alliance proposed for her. The Duke of Albany 
had had great difficulty in keeping the King of France 
to his promise of giving even his second son to Catherine 
de’ Medici; and Clement’s impatience was so great, he 
was so much afraid of seeing his schemes upset either by 
some intrigue on the part of the Emperor, or by the 
haughtiness of France, where the great nobles cast an 
evil eye on this union, that he embarked forthwith and 
made for Marseilles. He arrived there at the end of 
October 1533, 


26 Catherine we: Media 


In spite of his splendor, the House of the Medici was 
eclipsed by the sovereign of France. To show to what a 
pitch these great bankers carried their magnificence, the 
dozen pieces given by the Pope in the bride’s wedding 
purse consisted of gold medals of inestimable historical 
interest, for they were at that time unique. But Francis — 
I., who loved festivity and display, distinguished himself 
on this occasion. ‘The wedding feasts for Henri de Va- 
lois and Catherine went on for thirty-four days. It is 
useless to repeat here details which may be read in every 
history of Provence and Marseilles as to this famous meet- 
ing between the Pope and the King of France, which 
was the occasion of a jest of the Duke of Albany’s as to 
the duty of fasting ; a retort recorded by Brantéme which 
vastly amused the Court, and shows the tone of manners 
at that time. 

Though Henri de Valois was but three weeks older than 
Catherine, the Pope insisted on the immediate consum- 
mation of the marriage between these two children, so 
greatly did he dread the subterfuges of diplomacy and the 
trickery commonly practised at that period. Clement, 
indeed, anxious for proof, remained thirty-four days at 
Marseilles, in the hope, it is said, of some visible evidence 
in his young relation, who at fourteen was marriageable. 
And it was, no doubt, when questioning Catherine before 
his departure, that he tried to console her by the famous 
speech ascribed to Catherine’s father: ‘‘ A figlia din- 
ganno, non manca mai la figliuolanza.” 

The strangest conjectures have been given to the world 
as to the causes of Catherine’s barrenness during ten 
years. Few persons nowadays are aware that various 
medical works contain suppositions as to this matter, so 
grossly indecent that they could not be repeated.’ This 
gives some clue to the strange calumnies which still 
blacken this Queen, whose every action was distorted to 

1See Bayle. Art. Fernel. 


Catherine de’ Medici QT 


her injury. The reason lay simply with her husband. 
It is sufficient evidence that at a time when no prince 
was shy of having natural children, Diane de Poitiers, far 
more highly favored than his wife, had no children ; and 
nothing is commoner in surgical experience than such a 
malformation as this Prince’s, which gave rise to a jest 
of the ladies of the Court, who would have made him 
Abbé de Saint-Victor, at a time when the French lan- 
guage was as free as the Latin tongue. After the Prince 
- was operated on, Catherine had ten children. 

The delay was a happy thing for France. If Henri II. 
had had children by Diane de Poitiers, it would have 
caused serious political complications. At the time of his 
treatment, the Duchesse de Valentinois was in the second 
youth of womanhood. These facts alone show that the 
history of Catherine de’ Medici remains to be entirely re- 
written ; and that, as Napoleon very shrewdly remarked, 
the history of France should be in one volume only, or in 
a thousand. 

When we compare the conduct of Charles V. with that 
of the King of France during the Pope’s stay at Mar- 
seilles, it is greatly to the advantage of Francis—as indeed 


in every instance. Here is a brief report of this meeting 


as given by a contemporary :— 

‘‘ His Holiness the Pope, having been conducted to the 
Palace prepared for him, as I have said, outside the port, 
each one withdrew to his chamber until the morrow, when 
his said Holiness prepared to make his entry. Which was 
done with great sumptuousness and magnificence, he being 
set on a throne borne on the shoulders of two men in his 
pontifical habit, saving only the tiara, while before him 
went a white palfrey bearing the Holy Sacrament, the 
said palfrey being led by two men on foot in very fine 
raiment holding a bridle of white silk. After him came 
all the cardinals in their habit, riding their pontifical 
mules, and Madame the Duchess of Urbino in great mag- 


- 


28° Catherine de’ Medici 


nificence, with a goodly company of ladies and- gentlemen 
alike of France and of Italy. And the Pope, with all 
this company, being come to the place prepared where 
they should lodge, each one withdrew; and all this was 
ordered and done without any disorder or tumult. Now, 
while as the Pope was making his entry, the King crossed 
_ the water in his frigate and went to lodge there whence 
the Pope had come, to the end that on the morrow he 
might come from thenee to pay homage to the Holy 
Father, as beseemed a most Christian King. 

‘‘The King being then ready, set forth to go to the 
Palace where the Pope was, accompanied by the Princes 
of his blood, Monseigneur the Duc de Vendosmois (father 
of the Vidame de Chartres), the Comte de Saint-Pol, 
Monsieur de Montmorency, and Monsieur de la Roche- 
sur-Yon, the Duc de Nemours (brother to the Duke of 
Savoy who died at that place), the Duke of Albany, and 
many others, counts, barons, and nobles, the Duc de 
Montmorency being at all times about the King’s person. 
The King, being come to the Palace, was received by the 

~ Pope.and all the College of Cardinals assembled in con- 
sistory, with much civility (fort humainement). This 
done, each one went to the place appointed to him, and 
the King took with him many cardinals to feast them, 
and among them Cardinal de’ Medici, the Pope’s nephew, 
a very magnificent lord with a fine escort. On the mor- 
row, those deputed by his Holiness and by the King 
began to treat of those matters whereon they had met to 
agree. First of all, they treated of the question of faith, 
and a bull was read for the repression of heresy, and to 
hinder things from coming to a greater combustion (une 
plus grande combustion) than they are in already. Then 
was performed the marriage ceremony between the Duc 
d’Orléans, the King’s second son, and Catherine de’ 
Medici, Duchess of Urbino, his Holiness’ niece, under 
conditions the same, or nearly the same, as had been for- 


Catherine | de’ Medici 99 


merly proposed to the Duke of Albany. The said mar- 
riage was concluded with great magnificence, and our 
Holy Father married them.’ This marriage being thus 
concluded, the Holy Father held a consistory, wherein he 
created four cardinals to wait on the King, to wit : Cardinal 
le Veneur, heretofore Bishop of Lisieux andHigh Almoner: 
Cardinal de Boulogne, of the family of la Chambre, half 
brother on his mother’s side to the Duke of Albany ; Car. 
dinal de Chatillon of the family of Coligny, nephew to the 
Sire de Montmorency; and Cardinal de Givry.” 

When Strozzi paid down the marriage portion in the 
presence of the Court, he observed some surprise on the 
part of the French nobles ; they said pretty loudly that it 
was a small price for such a mésalliance—what would - 
they say to-day ? Cardinal Ippolito replied— 

‘Then you are not informed as to your King’s secrets. 
His Holiness consents to bestow on France three pearls of 
inestimable price—Genoa, Milan, and Naples.” 

The Pope left Count Sebastian Montecuculi to present 
himself at the French Court, where he made an offer of 
his services, complaining of Antonio de Leyva and Fer- 
nando Gonzaga, for which reason he was accepted. Mon- 
tecuculi was not one of Catherine’s household, which was 
composed entirely of French ladies and gentlemen ; for, 
by a law of the realm which the Pope was rejoiced to see 
carried out, Catherine was naturalized by letters patent 
before her marriage. Montecuculi was at first attached 
to the household of the Queen, Charles V.’s sister. Then, 
not long after, he entered the Dauphin’s service in the 
capacity of cupbearer. 

The Duchesse d’Orléans found herself entirely swamped 
at the Court of Francis I. Her young husband was in 


1 At that time in French, as in Italian, the words marry and 
espouse were used in a contrary sense to their present meaning. 
Marier was the fact of being married, apouser was the priestly 
function, 


30 Catherine de’ Medici 


love with Diane de Poitiers, who was certainly her equal 
in point of birth, and a far greater lady. The daughter 
of the Medici took rank below Queen Eleanor, Charles 
V.’s sister, and the Duchesse d’Etampes, whose marriage 
to the head of the family of de Brosse had given her one 
of the most powerful positions and highest titles in France. 
Her aunt, the Duchess of Albany, the Queen of Navarre, 
the Duchesse de Guise, the Duchesse de Vendéme, the 
wife of the Connétable, and many other women, by their 
birth and privileges as well as by their influence in the 
most sumptuous Court ever held by a French King—not 
excepting Louis XIV.—wholly eclipsed the daughter of 
the Florentine merchants, who was indeed more illustrious 
and richer through the Tour de Boulogne family than 
through her descent from the Medici. 

Filippo Strozzi, a republican at heart, regarded his 
niece’s position as so critical and difficult, that he felt 
himself incapable of directing her in the midst of con- 
flicting interests, and deserted her at the end of a year, 
being indeed recalled to Italy by the death of Clement 
VII. Catherine’s conduct, when we remember that she 
was but just fifteen, was a marvel of prudence. She very 
adroitly attached herself to the King, her father-in-law, 
leaving him as rarely as possible; she was with him on 
horseback, in hunting, and in war. 

Her adoration of Francis I. saved the House of Medici 
from all suspicion when the Dauphin died poisoned. At 
that time Catherine and the Duc d’Orléans were at the 
King’s headquarters in Provence, for France had already 
been invaded by Charles V., the King’s brother-in-law. 
The whole Court had remained on the scene of the wed- 
ding festivities, now the theater of the most barbarous 
war. Just as Charles V., compelled to retreat, had fled, 
leaving the bones of his army in Provence, the Dauphin 
was returning to Lyons by the Rhone. Stopping at 
Tournon for the night, to amuse himself, he went through 


¢ 


~ 


Catliering dee Medici 31 


some athletic exercises, such as formed almost the sole 
education he or his brother received, in consequence of 
their long detention as hostages. The Prince being very 
hot—it was inthe month of August—was so rash as to ask 
for a glass of water, which was given to him, iced, by 
Montecuculi. The Dauphin died almost instantaneously. 

The King idolized his son. The Dauphin was indeed, 
as historians are agreed, a very accomplished Prince. His 
father, in despair, gave the utmost publicity to the pro- 
ceedings against Montecuculi, and placed the matter in 
the hands of the most learned judges of the day. 

After heroically enduring the first tests of torture with- 
‘out confessing anything, the Count made an avowal by 
which he fully implicated the Emperor and his two gen- 
erals, Antonio de Leyva and Fernando Gonzago. ‘This, 
however, did not satisfy Francis I. Never was a case 
more solemnly thrashed out than this. An eyewitness 
gives the following account of what the King did :— 

«¢ The King called all the Princes of the Blood, and all the 
Knights of his Order, and many other high personages of 
the realm, to meet at Lyons; the Pope’s Legate and 
Nuncio, the cardinals who were of his Court, and the am- 
bassadors of England, Scotland, Portugal, Venice, Fer- 
rara, and others ; together with all the princes and great 
nobles of foreign countries, both of Italy and of Germany, 
who were at that time residing at his Court, to wit: The 
Duke of Wittemberg, in Allemaigne ; the Dukes of Som- 
ma, of Arianna, and of Atria; the Princes of Melphe. 
 [Malfi ?] (who had desired to marry Catherine), and of 
Stilliano, Neapolitan; the Marquis di Vigevo, of the 
House of Trivulzio, Milanese ; the Signor Giovanni Paolo 
di Ceri, Roman; the Signor Césare Fregose, Genoese ; 
the Signor Annibale Gonzaga, Mantuan, and many more. 
Who being assembled, he caused to be read in their pres- 
ence, from the beginning to the end, the trial of that 
wretched man who had poisoned his late Highness the 


a2 Catherine de’ Medici 


Dauphin, with all the interrogations, confessions, con- 
frontings, and other proceedings usnal in crimial trials, 
not choosing that the sentence should be carried out 
until all those present had given their opinion on this 
monstrous and miserable matter.” 

Count Montecuculi’s fidelity and devotion may seem 
extraordinary in our day of universal indiscretion, when 
everybody, and even Ministers, talk over the most trivial 
incidents in which they have puta finger; but in those 
times princes could command devoted servants, or knew 
“how to choose them. There were monarchical Moreys 
' then, because there was faith. Never look for great 
_ things from self-interest: interests may change; but 
_ look for anything from feeling, from religious faith, mon- 
 archical faith, patriotic faith. These three beliefs alone 
ean produce a Berthereau of Geneva, a Sydney or a Straf- 
ford in England, assassins to murder Thomas a Becket, or 
a Montecuculi: Jacques Ceur and Jeanne d’Are, or Riche- 
lien and Danton ; a Bonchamp, a Talmont, ora Clément, a 
Chabot. 

Charles V. made use of the highest personages to carry 
out the murder of three ambassadors from Francis I. A 
year later Lorenzino, .Catherine’s cousin, assassinated 
Duke Alessandro after three years of dissimulation, and 
in circumstances which gained him the surname of the 
Florentine Brutus. The rank of the victim was so little 
a check on such undertakings that neither Leo X. nor 
Clement VII. seems to have died a natural death. Mari- 
ana, the historian of Philip II., almost jests in speaking 
of the death of the Queen of Spain, a Princess of France, 
saying that ‘‘ for the greater glory of the Spanish throne 
God suffered the blindness of the doctors who treated the 
Queen.for dropsy.” When King Henri II. allowed him- 
self to utter a scandal which deserved a sword-thrust, he 
could find la Chataignerie willing to take it. At that 
time royal personages had their meals served to them in 


oS 


Catherine de’ Medici 88 


padlocked boxes of which they had the key. Hence the 
droit de cadenas, the right of the padlock, an honor which 
ceased to exist in the reign of Louis XIV. 

The Dauphin died of poison, the same perhaps as 
- caused the death of Mapams, under Louis XIV.~ Pope 
Olement had been dead two years; Duke Alessandrc, 
steeped in debauchery, seemed to have no interest in the 
Due d’Orléans’ elevation. Catherine, now seventeen years 
_ old, was with her father-in-law, whom she - devotedly 
admired ; Charles V. alone seemed to have an interest ir 
the Dauphin’s death, because Francis I. intended his son 
to form an alliance which would have extended the power 
of France. Thus the Count’s confession was very ingeni- 
ously based on the passions anid policy of the day. - Charles 
V. had fled after seeing his troops overwhelmed in Pro- 
vence, and with them his good fortune, his reputation, and 
his hopes of aggrandizement. And note, that even if an 
innocent man had confessed under torture, the King 
afterwards gave him freedom of speech before an august 
assembly, and in the presence of men with whom inno- 
cence had a fair chance of a hearing. The King wanted 
the truth, and sought it in good faith. 

In spite of her now brilliant prospects, Catherine’s posi- 
tion at court was unchanged by the Dauphin’s death ; her 
childlessness made a divorce seem probable when her 
husband should become king. The Dauphin was now 
enslaved by Diane de Poitiers, who had dared to be the 


rival of Madame d’Etampes. Catherine was therefore. 
doubly attentive and insinuating to her father-in-law, ' 


understanding that he was her sole mainstay. 

Thus the first ten years of Catherine’s married life were 
spent in the unceasing regrets caused by repeated disap- 
pointments when she hoped to have a child, and the vexa- 
tions of her rivalry with Diane. Imagine what the life 
must be of a princess constantly spied on by a jealous 
mistress who was fayored by the Catholic party, and by 

3 


34 Catherine de’ Medici 


the strong support the Sénéchale had acquired through 
the marriage of her daughters—one to Robert de la Mark, 
Due de Bouillon, Prince de Sédan; the other to Claude 
de Lorraine, Duc d’Aumale. 

Swamped between the party of the Duchesse d’Etampes 
and that of the Sénéchale (the title borne by Diane de 
Poitiers during the reign of Francis I.), who divided the 
Court and political feeling between the two mortal foes, 
Catherine tried to be the friend of both the Duchess and 
Diane de Poitiers. She, who was to become so great a 
queen, played the part of a subaltern. Thus she served 
her apprenticeship to the double-faced policy which after- 


~ wards was the secret clue to her life. Ata later date the 


queen found herself between the Catholics and the Cal- 
vinists, as the woman had been, for ten years, between 
Madame d’Etampes and Madame de Poitiers. 

She studied the contradictions of French policy. 
Francis upheld Calvin and the Lutherans, to annoy Charles 
VY. Then, after having covertly and patiently fostered the 
Reformation in Germany, after tolerating Calvin’s presence 
at the Court of Navarre, he turned against it with undis- 
guised severity. So Catherine could see the Court and the 
women of the Court playing with the fire of heresy ; Diane 
at the head of the Catholic party with the Guises, only 
because the Duchesse d’Etampes was on the side of Calvin 
and the Protestants. 

This was Catherine’s political education ; and in the 
King’s private circle she could study the mistakes made 
by the Medici. The Dauphin was antagonistic to his 
father on every point; he was a bad son. He forgot the 
hardest but the truest axiom of Royalty, namely, that the 
throne is a responsible entity, and that a son who may 
oppose his father during his lifetime must carry out his 
policy on succeeding to the throne. Spinoza, who was as 
deep a politician as he was a great philosopher, says, in 
treating of the case of a king who has sugceeded to another 


Catherine de’ Medici 85 


by a revolution or by treason: “Ifthe new King ‘opes to 
secure his throne and protect his life, he must display so 
much zeal in avenging his predecessor’s death that no one 
shall feel tempted to repeat such acrime. But to avenge 
him worthily it is not enough that he should shed the 
blood of his subjects ; he must confirm the maxims of 
him whose place he fills, and walk in the same ways of 
government. 

It was the application of this principle which gave the 
Medici to Florence. Cosmo I., Alessandro’s successor, 
eleven years later instigated the murder, at Venice, of the 
Florentine Brutus, and, as has been said, persecuted the 
Strozzi without mercy. It was the neglect of this prin- 
ciple that overthrew Louis XVI. That King was false to 
- every principle of government when he reinstated the 
Parlements suppressed by his grandfather. Louis XV. had 
been clear-sighted ; the Parlements, and especially that of 
Paris, were quite half to blame for the disorders that 
necessitated the assembling of the States-General. Louis 
XYV.’s mistake was that when he threw down that barrier 
between the throne and the people, he did not erect a 
stronger one, that he did not substitute for the Parlements, 
a strong constitutional rule in the provinces. ‘There lay 
the remedy for the evils of the Monarchy, the voting power 
for taxation and the incidents of the taxcs, with consent 
gradually won to the reforms needed in the monarchical rule. 


_ Henri II.’s first act was to give all his confidence to the 
Connétable de Montmorency, whom his father had desired 
him to leave in banishment. 'The Connétable de Mont- 
morency, with Diane de Poitiers, to whom he was closely 
attached, was master of the kingdom. Hence Catherine 
was even less powerful and happy as Queen of France than 
she had been as the Dauphiness. 

At first, from the year 1543, she had a child every year 
for ten years, and was fully taken up by her maternal 


86 Caietits de’ Medici 


functions during that time, which included the last years 
of Francis I,’s reign, and almost the whole of her husband’s. 
It is impossible not to detect in this constant child-bearing 
’ the malicious influence of a rival who thus kept the legiti- 
mate wife out of the way. ‘This feminine and barbarous 
policy was no doubt one of Catherine’s grievances against 
Diane. Being thus kept out of the tide of affairs, this clever 
woman spent her time in observing all the interests of the 
persons at Court and all the parties formed there. The 
Italians who had followed her excited violent suspicions, 
After the execution of Montecuculi, the Connétable de 
Montmorency, Diane, and most of the crafty politicians at 
Court were racked with doubts of the Medici ; but Francis 
I, always scouted them. Still the Gondi, the Biraguas, 
the Strozzi, the Ruggieri, the Sardini, in short, all who 
were classed as the Italians who had arrived in Catherine’s 
wake, were compelled to exercise every faculty of wit, 
policy, and courage to enable them to remain at Court 
under the burden of disfavor that weighed on them. 
During the supremacy of Diane de Poitiers, Catherine’s 
obligingness went so far that some cleyer folks have seen 
in it an evidence of the profound dissimulation to which 
she was compelled by men and circumstances, and by the 
conduct of Henri II. But it is going too far to say that 
she never asserted her rights as a wife and a queen. Her 
ten children (besides one miscarriage) were a sufficient 
explanation of the King’s conduct, who was thus set free 
to spend his time with Diane de Poitiers, But the King 
certainly never fell short of what he owed to himself; he 
gave the Queen an entry worthy of any that had previously 
taken place, on the occasion of her coronation. The 
records of the Parlement and of the Exchequer prove that 
these two important bodies went to meet Catherine outside 
Paris, as far as Saint-Lazare, Here, indeed, is a passage 
from du Tillet’s narrative :— 

‘A scaffolding had been erected wt Saint-Lazare, 


fp Catherine de’ Medici  8T 


whereon was a throne (which du Tillet calls a chair of 
state, chaire de parement). Catherine seated herself on 
this, dressed in a surcoat, or sort of cape of ermine, covered 
with jewels ; beneath it a bodice, with a court train, and 
on her head a crown of pearls and diamonds ; she was 
supported by the Maréchale de la Mark, her lady of honor. 
Around her, standing, were the princes of the Blood and 
other princes and noblemen richly dressed, with the 
Chancellor of France in a robe of cloth of gold in a pattern 
on a ground of red cramoisy.’ In front of the Queen and 
on the same scaffolding were seated, in two rows, twelve 
duchesses and countesses, dressed in surcoats of ermine, ~ 
stomachers, trains, and fillets, that is to say, coronets, 
whether duchesses or countesses. There were the duch- 
esses d’Estouteville, de Montpensier—the elder and the 
younger—the Princesse de la Roche-sur-Yon ; the Duch-- 
esses de Guise, de Nivernois, d’Aumale, de Valentinois 
(Diane de Poitiers) ; Mademoiselle the legitimized bastard 
‘of France ” (a title given to the King’s daughter Diane, 
who became Duchesse de Castro-Farnese, and afterwards 
Duchesse de Montmorency-Damville), Madame la Con- 
nétable, and Mademoiselle de Nemours, not to mention 
the other ladies who could find no room. The four capped 
Presidents (&@ mortier), with some other members of the 
Court and the chief clerk, du Tillet, went up on to the 
platform and did their service, and the First President 
Lizet, kneeling on one knee, addressed the Queen. The 
Chancellor, likewise on one knee, made response. She 
made her entrance into Paris at about three in the after- 
_noon, riding in an open litter, Madame Marguerite de 
France sitting opposite to her, and by the side of the litter 
came the Cardinals d’Amboise, de Chatillon, de Boulogne, . 
and de Lenoncourt, in their rochets. She got out at the 
Church of Notre-Dame, and was received by the clergy. 


_ 1 The old French word cramoisi did not mean merely a crimson 
red, but denoted a special excellence of the dye. (See Rabelais.) 


38 Catherine de’ Medici 


After she had made her prayer, she was carried along the 
Rue dela Calandre to the Palace, where the royal supper 
was spread in the great hall. She sat there in the middle 
at a marble table, under a canopy of velvet powdered with 
gold fleurs de lys.” 

It will here be fitting to controvert a popular error 
which some persons have perpetuated, following Sauval in 
the mistake. It has been said that Henri II. carried his 
oblivion of decency so far as to place his mistress’s initials 
even on the buildings which Catherine had advised him 
to undertake or to carry on at such lavish expense. But 
the cypher, which is to be seen at the Louvre, amply re- 
futes those who have so little comprehension as to lend 
credit to such nonsense, a gratuitous slur on the honor of 
our kings and queens. The H for Henri and the two Cs, 
face to face, for Catherine seem indeed to make two Ds for 
Diane ; and this coincidence was no doubt pleasing to the 
King. But it is not the less certain that the royal cypher 
was officially constructed of the initials of the King and 
the Queen. And this is so true, that the same cypher is 
still to be seen on the corn-market in Paris which Cath- 
erine herself had built. It may also be found in the crypt 
of Saint Denis on Catherine’s tomb, which she caused to 
be constructed during her lifetime by the side of that of 
Henri II., and on which she is represented from life by 
the sculptor to whom she sat. 

On a solemn occasion, when he was setting out on an 
expedition to Germany, Henri II. proclaimed Catherine 
Regent during his absence, as also in the event of his 
death—on March 25, 1552. Catherine’s bitterest enemy, 
the author of the Discours mervetlleux sur les déportements 
de Catherine IT., admits that she acquitted herself of these 
functions to the general approbation, and that the King 
was satisfied with her administration. Henri II. had men 
and money at theright moment. And after the disastrous 
day of Saint-Quentin, Catherine obtained from the Pari- 


Catherine de’ Medici 39 


sians considerable sums, which she forwarded to Com- 
piégne, whither the King had come. 

In politics Catherine made immense efforts to acquire 
some little influence. She was clever enough to gain over 
to her interests the Connétable de Montmorency, who was 
all powerful under HenriII. The King’s terrible reply to 
Montmorency’s insistency is well known. This answer 
was the result of the good advice given by Catherine in the 
rare moments when she was alone with the King, and 
could explain to him the policy of the Florentines, which 
was to set the magnates of a kingdom by theearsand build . 
up the sovereign ‘authority on the ruins—Louis XI.’s 
system subsequently carried out by Richelieu. Henri II., 
who saw only through the eyes of Diane and the Conné- 
table, was quite a feudal King, and on friendly terms with 
the great houses of the realm. 

After an ineffectual effort in her favor made by the Con- 
nétable, probably in the year 1556, Catherine paid great 
court to the Guises, and schemed to detach them from 
Diane’s party so as to set them in opposition to Montmo- 
rency. But, unfortunately, Diane and the Connétable 
were as virulent against the Protestants as the Guises 
were. Hence their antagonism lacked the virus which re- 
ligious feeling would have givenit. Besides, Diane boldly 
defied the Queen’s plans by coquetting with the Guises and 
giving her daughter to the Duc d’Aumale. She went so 
far that she has been accused by some writers of granting 
more than smiles to the gallant Cardinal de Lorraine.* 


1 Some satirist of the time has left the following lines on Henri 
II. [in which the pun on the words Sire and Cire (wax) would be 
lost in translation] :— 


‘* Sire, si vous laissez, comme Charles désire, [ 
Comme Diane veut, par trop vous gouverner, 
Fondre, pétrir, mollir, refondre, retourner, 


Sire, vous n’étes plus, vous n’étes plus que cire.” 
Charles was the Cardinal de Lorraine, 


40 Catherine de’ Medici 


The signs of grief and the ostentatious regret displayed 
by Catherine on the King’s death cannot be regarded as 
genuine. The fact that HenrilIl. had been so passionate- 
ly and faithfully attached to Diane de Poitiers made it in- 
cumbent on Catherine that she should play the part of a 
neglected wife who idolized her husband ; but, like every 
clever woman, she carried on her dissimulation, and never 
ceased to speak with tender regret of HenriII. Diane her- 
self, it is well known, wore mourning all her life for her 
husband, Monsieur de Brézé. Her colors were black and 
white, and the King was wearing them at the tournament 
where he was fatally wounded. Catherine, in imitation 
no doubt of her rival, wore mourning for the King to the 
end of her life. 

On the King’s death, the Duchesse de Valentinois was 
shamelessly deserted and dishonored by the Connétable de 

-Montmorency, a man in every respect beneath his reputa- 
tion. Diane sent to offer her estate and Chateau of 
Chenonceanx to the Queen. Catherine then replied in 
the presence of witnesses, “‘I can never forget that she 
was all the joy of my dear Henri ; I should be ashamed to 
accept, I will give her an estate in exchange. I would 
propose that of Chaumont-on-the-Loire.” The deed of 
exchange was, in fact, signed at Blois in 1559. Diane, 
whose sons-in-law were the Duc d’Aumale and the Ducde 
Bouillon, kept her whole fortune and died peacefully in 
1566 at the age of sixty-six. She was thus nineteen years 

older than Henrill. These dates, copied from the epitaph 
on her tomb by an historian who studied the question at 
the end of the last century, clear up many historical diffi- 

‘culties ; for many writers have said she was forty when her 
father was sentenced in 1523, while others have said she 
was but sixteen. She was, in fact, four-and-twenty. 

_ After reading everything both for and against her con- 

- duct with Francis I., at a time when the House of Poitiers 

was in the greatest danger, we can neither confirm nor 


Catherine de’ Medici 41 


deny anything. It is a passage of history that still re-_ 
mains obscure. We can see by what happens in our own 
day how history is falsified, as it were, in the making. 

Catherine, who founded great hopes on her rival’s age, 
several times made an attempt to overthrow her. On 
one occasion she was very near the accomplishment of her 
hopes. In 1554, Madame Diane, being ill, begged the 
King to go to Saint-Germain pending her recovery. This _ 
sovereign coquette would not be seen in the midst of the 
paraphernalia of doctors, nor bereft of the adjuncts of 
dress. ‘T'o receive the king on his return, Catherine ar- 
ranged a splendid ballet, in which five or six young ladies 
were to address him in yerse. She selected for the pur- 
pose Miss Flemjng, related to her uncle, the Duke of 
Albany, and one of the loveliest girls imaginable, fair and 
golden-haired ; then a young connection of her own, 
Clarissa Strozzi, with magnificent black hair and rarely 
fine hands ; Miss Lewiston, maid of honor to Mary 
Stewart ; Mary Stewart herself; Madame Elisabeth de 
France, the unhappy Queen of Spain ; and Madame Claude. 
Elisabeth was nine years old, Claude eight, and Mary 
Stewart twelve. Obyiously, the Queen aimed at showing 
off Clarissa Strozzi and Miss Fleming without other rivals 
in the King’s eyes. The King succumbed : he fell in love 
with Miss Fleming and she bore him a son, Henri de 
Valois, Comte d’Angouléme, Grand Prior of France. 

But Diane’s influence and position remained unshaken. ~ 
Like Madame de Pompadour later with Louis XV., the 
Duchesse de Valentinois was forgiving. But to what 
sort of loye are we to ascribe this scheme on Catherine’s 
part? Love of power or love of her husband? Women 
must decide, 


A great deal is said in these days as to the licence of 
the press ; but it is difficult to imagine to what a pitch it 
was carried when printing was a new thing. . Aretino, the 


42 ae et des 


Voltaire of his time, as is well known, made monarchs 
tremble, and foremost of them all Charles V. But few 
people know perhaps how far the audacity of pamphleteers 
could go.. This Chateau of Chenonceaux had been given 
to Diane, nay, she was entreated to accept it, to induce 
her to overlook one of the most horrible publications ever 
hurled at a woman, one which shows how violent was the 
animosity between her and Madame d’Etampes. In 1537, 
when she was eight-and-thirty, a poet of Champagne, 
named Jean Vouté, published a collection of Latin verses, 
and’ among them three epigrams aimed at her. We must 
conclude that the poet was under high patronage from 
the fact that his volume is introduced by an eulogiwm 
written by Simon Macrin, the King’s first Gentleman of 
the Bed-chamber. Here is the only passage quotable to- 
day from these epigrams, which bear the title: In 
Pictaviam, anum aulicam. (Against la Poitiers, an old 
woman of the Court.) 


‘* Non trahit esca ficta preedam.” 


«* A painted bait catches no game,” says the poet, after 
telling her that she paints her face and buys her teeth and 
_ hair ; and he goes on: ‘‘ Even if you could buy the finest 
essence that makes a woman, you would not get what you 
want of your lover, for you would need to be living, and 
you are dead.” 

' This volume, printed by Simon de Colines, was dedi- 
cated ‘‘ To a Bishop !”—'T'o Frangois Bohier, the brother 
of the man who, to save his credit at Court and atone for 
his crime, made an offering on the accession of Henri II. 
of the chateau of Chenonceaux, built by his father, Thomas 
Bohier, Councilor of State under four Kings: Louis XI., 
Charles VIII., Louise XII., and Francis I. What were 
the pamphlets published against Madame de Pompadour 
and Marie Antoinette in comparison with verses that 
might have been written by Martial! Vofté must have 


Catherine de’ Medici 43 


come to a bad end. Thus the estate and chateau of 
Chenonceanx cost Diane nothing but the forgiveness of 
an offense—a duty enjoined by the Gospel. Not being 
» assessed by a jury, the penalties inflicted on the Press were 
rather severer then than they are now. 

The widowed Queens of France were required to remain 
for forty days in the King’s bed-chamber, seeing no light 
but that of the tapers; they might not come out till after 
the funeral. This inviolable custom annoyed Catherine 
greatly ; she was afraid of cabals. She found a way to 
evade it. The Cardinal de Lorraine coming out one 
morning—at such a time! at such a juncture !—from the 
house of ‘‘the Fair Roman,” a famous courtesan of that 
day, who lived in the Rue Culture-Sainte-Catherine, 
was roughly handled by a party of roisterers. ‘* Whereat 
his Holiness was much amazed,”. says Henri Estienne, 
‘“‘and gave it out that heretics were lying in wait for 
him.”—And on this account the Court moved from Paris 
to Saint-Germain. The Queen would not leave the King 
her son behind, but took him with her. 

The accession of Francis II., the moment when Cath- 
erine proposed to seize the reins of power, was a-disap- 
pointment that formed a cruel climax to the twenty-six 
years of endurance she had already spent at the French 
Court. The Guises, with incredible audacity, at once 
usurped the sovereign power. The Duc de Guise was 
placed in command of the army, and the Connétable de 
Montmorency was shelved. ‘The Cardinal took the control 
of the finances and the clergy. 

Catherine’s political career opened with one of those 
dramas which, though it was less notorious than some 
others, was not the less horrible, and initiated her no 
doubt into the agitating shocks of her life. Whether it 
was that Catherine, after vainly trying the most violent 
remedies, had thought she might bring the King back to 
her through jealousy ; whether on coming to her second 


44. ~~ Qatherine de’ Medici 


youth she had felt it hard never to have known love, 
she had shown a warm interest ina gentleman of royal 
blood, Francois de Vendéme, son of Louis de Vendéme— 
the parent House of the Bourbons—the Vidame de Char- 
tres, the name by which he is known to history. Cath- 
erine’s covert hatred of Diane betrayed itself in many 
ways, which historians, studying only political develop- 
ments, have failed to note with due attention. Catherine’s 
attachment to the Vidame arose from an insult offered 
by the young man to the favorite. Diane looked for the 
most splendid matches for her daughters, who were indeed 
of the best blood in the kingdom. Above all, she was 
ambitious of an alliance with the Royal family. And her 
second daughter, who became the Duchesse d’Aumale, 
was proposed in marriage to the Vidame, whom Francis L, 
with sage policy, kept in poverty. For, in fact, when the 
Vidame de Chartres and the Prince de Condé first came 
to Court, Francis J, gave them appointments! What? 
the office of chamberlains in ordinary, with twelve hundred 
crowns a year, as much as he bestowed on the humblest of 
his gentlemen. And yet, though Diane offered him im- 
mense wealth, some high office under the Crown, and the 
King’s personal fayor, the Vidame refused. And then 
this Bourbon, factious as he was, married Jeanne, daughter 
of the Baron d’Estissac, by whom he had no children, 

This proud demeanor naturally commended the Vidame 
- to Catherine, who received him with marked favor, and 
made him her devoted friend. Historians have compared 
the last Duc de Montmorency, who was beheaded at Tou- 
louse, with the Vidame de Chartres for his power of 
charming, his merits, and his talents. 

Henri II. was not jealous; he did not apparently think 
it possible that a Queen of France could fail in her duty, 
or that a Medici could forget the honor done her by a 
Valois. When the Queen was said to be flirting with the 
Vidame de Chartres, she had been almost deserted by the 


Catherine de’ Medici 45 


King since the birth of her last child. So this attempt 
came to nothing—as the King died wearing the colors 
of Diane de Poitiers. 

So, at the King’s death, Catherine was on terms of 
gallant familiarity with the Vidame, a state of things in 
no way out of harmony with the manners of the time, 
when love was at once so chivalrous and so licentious that 
the finest actions seemed as natural as the most blamable. 
But, as usual, historians have blundered by regarding 
exceptional cases as the rule. 

Henri IT.’s four sons nullified every pretension of the 
Bourbons, who were all miserably poor, and crushed under 
the scorn brought upon them by the Connétable de Mont- 
morency’s treason, in spite of the reasons which had led~ 
him to quit the country. The Vidame de Chartres, who 
was to the first Prince de Condé what Richelieu was to 
Mazarin, a father in politics, a model, and yet more a 
master in gallantry, hid the vast ambition of his family 
under a semblance of levity. Being unable to contend 
with the Guises, the Montmorencys, the Princes of Scot- 
land, the Cardinals, and the Bouillons, he aimed at dis- 
tinction by his gracious manners, his elegance, and his wit, 
which won him the favors of the most charming women, 
and the heart of many-he never thought about. He was 
aman privileged by nature, whose fascinations were ir- 
resistible, and who owed to his love affairs the means of 
keeping up hisrank. ‘The Bourbons would not have taken 
offense, like Jarnac, at la Chataignerie’s scandal ; they were 
very ready to accept lands and houses from their mistresses 
—witness the Prince de Condé, who had the estate of 
Saint-Valery from Madame la Maréchale de Saint-André. 

During the first twenty days of mourning for Henri II., 
asudden change came over the Vidame’s prospects. 
Courted by the Queen-mother, and courting her as a man 
may court a queen, in the utmost secrecy, he seemed fated 
to play an important part ; and Catherine, in fact, resolved 


46 Catherine de’ Medici 


to make him useful. The Prince received letters from 
her to the Prince de Condé, in which she pointed out the 
necessity for a coalition against the Guises. The Guises, 
informed of this intrigue, made their way into the Queen’s 
chamber to compel her to sign an order consigning the 
Vidame to the Bastille, and Catherine found herself under 
the cruel necessity of submitting. The Vidame died after 
a few months’ captivity, on the day when he came out of 
prison, a short time before the Amboise conspiracy. 

This was the end of Catherine de’ Medici’s first and 
only love affair. Protestant writers declared that the 
Queen had him poisoned to bury the secret of her gal- 
lantries in the tomb. 

Such was this woman’s apprenticeship to the exercise of 
royal power. 


PART I 


THE CALVINIST MARTYR 


Few persons in these days know how artless were the 
dwellings of the citizens of Paris in the sixteenth century, 
and how simple their lives. ‘This very simplicity of habits 
and thought perhaps was the cause of the greatness of this 
primitive citizen class—for they were certainly great, free 
and noble, more so perhaps than the citizens of our time. 
Their history remains to be written; it requires and 
awaits a man of genius. Inspired by an incident which, 
though little known, forms the basis of this narrative, and 
is one of the most remarkable in the history of the citizen 
class, this reflection will no doubt occur to every one who 
shall read it to the end. Is it the first time in history 
that the conclusion has come before the facts ? 

In 1560, the houses of the Rue de la Vieille-Pelleterie lay 
close to the left bank of the Seine, between the Pont 
Notre-Dame and the Pont au Change. The public way 
and the houses occupied the ground now given up to the 
single path of the present quay. Each house, rising from 
the river, had a way down to it by stone or wooden steps, 
defended by strong iron gates, or doors of nail-studded 
timber. These houses, like those of Venice, had a door to 
the land and one to the water. At the moment of writing 
this sketch, only one house remains of this kind as a rem- 
iniscence of old Paris, and that is doomed soon to disap- 
pear ; it stands at the corner of the Petit-Pont, the little 
bridge facing the guard-house of the Hétel-Dieu. 

Of old each dwelling presented, on the ae the 


48 Pavhers de’ Medici 


peculiar physiognomy stamped on it either by the trade 
and the habit of the owners, or by the eccentricity of the 
constructions devised by them for utilizing or defiling 
the Seine. The bridges being built, and almost all choked 
ap by more mills than were convenient for the require- 
ments of navigation, the Seine in Paris was divided into as 
~ many pools as there were bridges. Some of theseold Paris 
basins would have afforded delightful studies of color for 
the painter. What a forest of timbers was built into the 
cross-beams that supported the mills, with their immense 
sails and wheels! What curious effects were to be found 
in the joists that shored up the houses from the river. 
Genre painting as yet, unfortunately, was not, and engrav- 
ing in its infancy ; so we have no record of the curious 
scenes which may still be found, on a small scale, in some 
provincial towns where the rivers are fringed with wooden 
houses, and where, as at Vendéme, for instance, the pools, 
overgrown with tall grasses, are divided by railings to 
separate the various properties on each bank. 

The name of this street, which has now vanished from 
the map, sufficiently indicates the kind of business carried 
on there. At that time the merchants engaged in any 
particular trade, far from dispersing themselves about the 
city, gathered together for mutual protection. Being 
socially bound by the guild which limited their increase, 
they were also united into a brotherhood by the Church. 
_ This kept up prices, And then the masters were not at 
the mercy of their workmen, and did not yield, as they do 
now, to all their vagaries; on the contrary, they took 
charge of them, treated them as their children, and taught 
them the finer mysteries of their craft. A workman, to 
become a master, was required to produce a masterpiece— 
always an offering to the patron saint of the guild. And 
will you venture to assert that the absence of competition 
diminished their sense of perfection, or hindered beauty of 
workmanship, when your admiration of the work of the 


‘ Catherine de’ Medici Ag 


older craftsmen has created the new trade of dealers in 
bric-d-brac ? 

In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the fur eae. 
was one of the most flourishing industries. The difficulty 
of obtaining furs, which, coming from the North, ne- 
cessitated long and dangerous voyages, gave a high value 
to skins and furriers’ work. Then, as now, high prices 
led to demand, for vanity knows no obstacles. 

Tn France, and in other kingdoms, not only was the use 
of furs restricted by law to the great nobility, as is proved 
by the part played by ermine in ancient coats-of-arms ; 
but certain rare furs, such as vair, which was beyond 
doubt imperial sable, might be worn only by kings, dukes, 
and men of high rank holding certain offices. Vair (a 
name still used in heraldry, vair and counter vair) was 
subdivided into grand vair and menu vair. The word 
has within the last hundred years fallen so completely into 
disuse, that in hundreds of editions of Perranlt’s fairy 
tales, Cinderella’s famous slipper, probably of fur, menu 
vair, has become a glass slipper, pantoujle de verre. Not 
long since a distinguished French poet was obliged to re-. 
store and explain the original spelling of this word, for 
the edification of his brethren of the press, when giving 
an account of the “Cenerentola,” in which a ring is 
substituted for the symbolical slipper—an unmeaning 
change, | 

The laws against the use of fur were, of course, perpet- 
ually transgressed, to the great advantage of the furriers. 
The high price of textiles and of furs made a garment in 
those days a durable thing, in keeping with the furniture, 
armor, and general details of the sturdy life ofthe time, A 
nobleman or lady, every rich man as well as every citizen, 
possessed at most two dresses for each season, and they 
lasted a lifetime or more. These articles were bequeathed 
to their children. Indeed, the clauses relating to weap- 
ons and raiment in marriage contracts, in these days, un- 

4 


50 Catherine de’ Medici 


important by reason of the small value of clothes that are 
constantly renewed, were at that period of great interest. 
High prices had led to durability. 

A lady’s outfit represented a vast sum of money ; it was 
included in her fortune, and safely bestowed in those 
enormous chests which endanger the ceilings of modern 
houses. The full dress of a lady in 1840 would have been 
the déshabillé of a fine lady of 1540. The discovery of 
America, the facility of transport, the destruction of social 
distinctions, which has led to the effacement of visible 
distinctions, have all contributed to reduce the furrier’s 
craft to the low ebb at which it stands, almost to nothing. 
The articles sold by a furrier at the same price as of old— 
say twenty livres—has fallen in value with the money: 
the livre or franc was then worth twenty of our present 
money. The citizen’s wife or the courtesan who, in 
our day, trims her cloak with sable, does not know that in 
1440 a malignant constable of the watch would have taken 
her forthwith into custody, and haled her before the judge 
at le Chatelet. The English ladies who are so fond of 
ermine are unconscious of the fact that formerly none but 
queens, duchesses, and the Chancellor of France were per- 
mitted to wear this royal fur. There are at this day 
various ennobled families bearing the name of Pelletier 
or Lepelletier, whose forebears were obviously wealthy 
furriers ; for most of our citizen names were originally 
surnames of that kind. 


This digression not only explains the long squabbles 
as to precedence which the Drapers’ Guild carried on for 
two centuries with the Mercers and the Furriers, each 
insisting on marching first, as being the most important, 
but also accounts for the consequence of one Master Le- 
camus, a furrier honored with the patronage of the two 
queens, Catherine de’ Medici and Mary Stewart, as well 
as that of the legal profession, who for twenty years had 


Catherine de’ Médici 51 


been the Syndie of his Corporation, and who lived in this 
street. The house occupied by Lecamus was one of the 
three forming the three corners of the cross-roads at the 
end of the Pont au Change, where only the tower now 
remains that formed the fourth corner. At the angle 
of this house, forming the corner of the bridge and of 
the quay, now called the Quai aux Fleurs, the architect 
had placed a niche for a Madonna, before whom tapers 
constantly burned, with posies of real flowers in their sea- 
son, and artificial flowers in the winter. 

On the side towards the Rue du Pont, as well as on 
that to the Rue de la Vieille-Pelleterie, the house was 
supported on wooden pillars. All the houses of the trad- 
ing quarters were thus constructed, with an arcade beneath, 
where foot passengers walked under cover on a floor hard- 
ened by the mud they brought in, which made it a rather 
rough pavement. In all the towns of France these arcades 
have been called piliers—in England rows—a general 
term to which the name of a trade is commonly added, 
as ** Piliers des Halles,” ‘< Piliers de la Boucherie.” These 
covered ways, required by the changeable and rainy climate 
of Paris, gave the town a highly characteristic feature, 
but they have entirely disappeared. Just as there now 
remains one house only on the river-bank, so no more than 
about a hundred feet are left of the old piliers in the 
market, the last that have survived till now; and in a few 
days this remnant of the gloomy labyrinth of old Paris will 
also be destroyed. The existence of these relics of the 
Middle Ages is, no doubt, incompatible with the splendor of 
modern Paris. And these remarks are not intended as a 
lament over those fragments of the old city, but as a veri- 
fication of this picture by the last surviving examples 
now falling into dust, and to win forgiveness for such 
descriptions, which will be precious in the future which is 
following hard on the heels of this age. 

The walls were of timber covered with slates. The 


52 Catherine de’ Medici 


spaces between the timbers had been filled up with bricks, 
in a way that may still be seen in some provincial towns, 
laid in a zigzag pattern known as Point de Hongrie. The 
window-sills and lintels,.also of wood, were handsomely 
carved, as were the corner tabernacle above the Madonna, 
and the pillars in front of the shop. Every window, every 
beam dividing the stories, was graced with arabesques of 
fantastic figures and animals wreathed in scrolls of foliage. 
On the street side, as on the river side, the house was 
crowned with a high-pitched roof having a gable to the 
river and one to the street. This roof, like that of a Swiss 
chalet, projected far enough to cover a balcony on the 
second floor, with an ornamental balustrade ; here the 
mistress might walk under shelter and command a view of 
the street, or of the pool shut in between two bridges and 
two rows of houses. 

Houses by the river were at that time highly valued. 
The system of drainage and water supply was not yet in- 
vented ; the only main drain was one round Paris, ¢on- 
structed by Aubriot, the first man of genius and deter- 
mination who—in the time of Charles V.—thought of 
sanitation for Paris. Houses situated like this of the 
Sieur Lecamus found in the river a necessary water-supply, 
and a natural outlet for rain water and waste. The vast 
works of this kind under the direction of the Trade Pro- 
vosts are only now disappearing. None but octogenarians 
can still remember having seen the pits which swallowed 
up the surface waters, in the Rue Montmartre, Rue du 
Temple, etc. These hideous yawning culverts were in 
their day of inestimable utility. Their place will probably 
be forever marked by the sudden rising of the roadway 
over what was their open channel—another archa#ological 
detail which, in a couple of centuries, the historian will 
find inexplicable. 

One day, in 1816, 4 little girl who had been sent to an 
actress at the Ambigu with some diamonds for the part 


Catherine de’ Medici 58 


of a queen, was caught ina storm, and so irresistibly 
swept away by the waters to the opening of the drain in 
the Rue du Temple, that she would have been drowned 
in it but for the help of a passer-by, who was touched by 
her cries, But she had dropped the jewels, which were 
fonnd ina man-hole. This accident made a great com- 
motion, and gave weight to the demands for the closing 
of these gulfs for swallowing water and little girls. These 
curious structures, five feet high, had more or less mova-. 
ble gratings, which led to the flooding of cellars when the 
stream produced by heavy rain was checked by the grat- 
ing being choked with rubbish, which the residents often 
forgot to remove, 

The front of Master Lecamus’ shop was a large window, 
but filled in with small panes of leaded glass, which made 
the place very dark. The furs for wealthy purchasers 
were carried to them for inspection. To those who came 
to buy in the shop, the goods were displayed outside be- 
tween the pillars, which, during the day, were always 
more or less blocked by tables and salesmen sitting on 
stools, as they could still be seen doing under the arcade 
of the Halles some fifteen years since, From these out- 
posts the clerks, apprentices, and sewing girls could chat, 
question, and answer each other, and hail the passer-by 
in a way which Walter Scott has depicted in the Fortunes 
of Nigel. The signboard, representing an ermine, was 
hung out as we still see those of village inns, swinging 
from a handsome arm of pierced and gilt ironwork. Over 
the ermine were these words :— 


LECAMUS 


Furrier 
To Her Majesty the Queen and the King our 
Sovereign Lord 


On one side, and on the other :— 


54 Catherine de’ Medici 


‘To Her Majesty the Queen Mother 
Aud to the Gentlemen of the Parlement.” 


The words “ To Her Majesty the Queen ” had been lately 
‘added ; the gilt letters were new. This addition was a 
consequence of the recent changes produced by Henri II.’s 
sudden and violent death, which overthrew many fortunes 
at Court, and began that of the Guises. 

The back shop looked over the river. In this room sat 
the worthy citizen and his wife, Mademoiselle Lecamus. 
The wife of a man who was not noble had not at that time 
any right to the title of Dame, or lady ; but the wives of 
the citizens of Paris were allowed to call themselves De- 
moiselie (as we might say Mistress), as part of the privi- 
leges granted and confirmed to their husbands by many 
kings to whom they had rendered great services. Be- 
tween this back room and the front shop was a spiral lad- 
der or staircase of wood, a sort of corkscrew leading up 
to the next story, where the furs were stored, to the old 
couple’s bedroom, and again to the attics, lighted by dor- 
mer windows, where their children slept, the maid-servant, 
the clerks, and the apprentices. 

This herding of families, servants, and apprentices, and 
the small space allotted to each in the dwelling, where the 
apprentices all slept in one large room under the tiles, ac- 
-eounts for the enormous population at that time crowded 
together in Paris on a tenth of the ground now occupied 
by the city, and also for the many curious details of me- 
dieval life, and the cunning love affairs, though these, 
pace the grave historian, are nowhere recorded but by 
the story writers, and without them would have been 
lost. 

At this time a grand gentleman—such as the Admiral 
de Coligny, for instance—had three rooms for himself in 
Paris, and his people lived in a neighboring hostelry. 
There were not fifty mansions in all Paris, not fifty palaces, 


Catherine de’ Medici — 55 


that is to say, belonging to the sovereign princes or great 


vassals, whose existence was far superior to that of the 
greatest German rulers, such as the Duke of Bavaria or 
the Elector of Saxony. : 

The kitchen in the Lecamus’ house was on the river-side 
below the back shop. It had a glass door opening on to 
an ironwork balcony, where the cook could stand to draw 
up water ina pail and to wash the householdlinen. Thus 
the back shop was at once the sitting-room, the dining- 
room, and the counting-house. It was in this important 
room—always fitted with richly carved wood, and adorned 
by some chest or artistic article of furniture—that the 
merchant spent most of his life ; there he had jolly sup- 
pers after his day’s work ; there were held secret debates 
on the political interests of the citizens and the Royal 
family. The formidable guilds of Paris could at that 
time arm a hundred thousand men. Their resolutions 
were stoutly upheld by their serving-men, their clerks, 
their apprentices, and their workmen. Their Provost was 
their commander-in-chief, and they had, in the Hétel de 
Ville, a palace where they had a right to assemble. 

In that famous “ citizens parlor ” (parlouer aux bour- 
geois) very solemn decisions were taken. But for the con- 
tinual sacrifices which had made war unendurable to the 
Guilds, wearied out with losses and famine, Henri IV., a 
rebel made king, might never have entered Paris. 

Every reader may now imagine for himself the char- 
acteristic appearance of this corner of Paris where the 
bridge and the quay now open out, where the trees rise 
from the Quai aux Fleurs, and where nothing is left of 
the past but the lofty and famous clock-tower whence the 


signal was tolled for the Massacre of Saint-Bartholomew. | 


Strange coincidence! One of the houses built round the 
foot of that tower—at that time surrounded by wooden 
shops—the house of the Lecamus, was to be the scene of 


one of the incidents that led to that night of horrors, 


56 Catherine de’ Medici 


which proved, unfortunately, propitious rather than fatal 
to Calvinism. 


At the moment when this story begins, the audacity 
of the new religious teaching was setting Paris by the ears. 
A Scotchman, named Stewart, had just assassinated 
President Minard, that member of the Parlement to 
whom public opinion attributed a principal share in the 
execution of Anne du Bourg, a councilor burnt on the 
Place de Gréve after the tailor of the late King, who had 
been tortured in the presence of Henri II, and Diane de 
Poitiers, Paris was so closely watched, that the archers 
on guard compelled every passer-by to pray to the Virgin, 
in order to detect heretics, who yielded unwillingly, or even 
refused to perform an act opposed to their convictions. 

- The two archers on guard at the corner of the Lecamus’ 
house had just gone off duty ; thus Christophe, the fur- 
rier’s son, strongly suspected of deserting the Catholic 
faith, had been able to go out without fear of being com- 
_ pelled to adore the Virgin’s image, At seven in the even- 
ing of an April day, 1560, night was falling, and the ap- 
prentices, seeing only a few persons walking along the 
arcades on each side of the street, were carrying in the 
goods laid out for inspection preparatory to closing the 
house and the shop, Christophe Lecamus, an ardent 
youth of two-and-twenty, was standing in the door, ap- 
parently engaged in looking after the apprentices, 

‘* Monsieur,” said one of these lads to Christophe, point- 
ing out a man who was pacing to and fro under the arcade 
with a doubtful expression, ‘‘that is probably a spy or a 
thief, but whatever he is, such a lean wretch eannot be an 
honest man. If he wanted to speak to us on business, he 
would come up boldly instead of creeping up and down as 
he is doing.—And what a face!” he went on, mimicking 
the stranger, ‘‘ with his nose hidden in his cloak! What 
@ jaundiced eye, and what a starved complexion | ” 


: Catherine de’ Medici _ BT 


As soon as the stranger thus described saw Christophe 
standing alone in the doorway, he hastily crossed from the 
opposite arcade where he was walking, came under the 
pillars of the Lecamus’ house, and passing along by the 
shop before the apprentices had come out again to close 
the shutters, he went up to the young man. 

‘¢T am Chaudieu !” he said ina low voice. 

On hearing the name of one of the most famous minis- 
ters, and one of the most heroic actors in the terrible 
drama called the Reformation, Christophe felt such a thrill 
as a faithful peasant would have felt on recognizing his 
King under a disguise. 

*¢ Would you like to see some furs ?” said Christophe, 
to deceive the apprentices whom he heard behind him. 
“'Thongh it is almost dark, I can show you some myself.” 

He invited the minister to enter, but the man replied 
- that he would rather speak to him out of doors. Chris- 
tophe fetched his cap and followed the Oalvinist. 

Chaudieu, though banished by an edict, as secret pleni- 
potentiary of Théodore de Béze and Calvin—who directed 
the Reformation in France from Geneva—went and came, 
defying the risk of the horrible death inflicted by the Parle- 
ment, in concert with the Church and the Monarch, on 
a leading reformer, the famous Anne du Bourg. This 
man, whose brother was a captain in the army, and one 
of Admiral Coligny’s best warriors, was the arm used by 
Calvin to stir up France at the beginning of the twenty- 
two years of religious wars which were on the eve of an 
outbreak, This preacher of the reformed faith was one 
of those secret wheels which may best explain the immense 
spread of the Reformation. 

Chandieu led Christophe down to the edge of the water 
by an underground passage like that of the Arche Marion, 
filled in some ten years since. This tunnel between the 
house of Lecamus and that next it ran under the Rue de 
la Vieille-Pelleterie, and was known as le Pont anx Four- 


58 Catherine de’ Medici 


reurs. It was used by the dyers of the Cité as a way 
down to the river to wash their thread, silk, and materials. 
A little boat lay there, held and rowed by one man. In 
the bows sat a stranger, a small man, and very simply 
dressed. In an instant the boat was in the middle of the 
river, and the boatman steered it under one of the wooden 
arches of the Pont au Change, where he quickly secured 
it to an iron ring. No one had said a word. 

‘* Here we may talk in safety, there are neither spies nor 
traitors,” said Chaudieu to the two others. “Are you 
filled with the spirit of self-sacrifice that should animate 
amartyr? Are you ready to suffer all things for our holy 
Cause ? Do you fear the torments endured by the late 
King’s tailor, and the Councilor du Bourg, which of a 
truth await us all?” He spoke to Christophe, looking at 
him with a radiant face. 

“*T will testify to the Gospel,” replied Christophe sim- 
ply, looking up at the windows of the back shop. 

The familiar lamp standing on a table, where his father 
was no doubt balancing his books, reminded him by its 
mild beam of the peaceful life and family joys he was re- 
nouncing. It was a brief but complete vision. The 
young man’s fancy took in the homely harmony of the 
whole scene—the places where he had spent his happy 
childhood, where Babette Lallier lived, his future wife, 
where everything promised him a calm and busy life ; he 
saw the past, he saw the future, and he sacrificed it all. 
At any rate, he staked it. 

Such were men in those days. 

‘« We need say no more,” cried the impetuous boatman. 
<‘ We know him for one of the saints. If the Scotchman 
had not dealt the blow, he would have killed the infamous 
Minard.” 

“Yes,” said Lecamus, ‘‘ my life is in the hands of the 
brethren, and I devote it with joy for the success of the 
Reformation. I have thought of it all seriously. I know. 


Catherine de’ Medici eae 


what we are doing for the joy of the nations. In two 
words, the Papacy makes for celibacy, the Reformation 
makes for the family. It is time to purge France of its 
monks, to restore their possessions to the Crown, which 
will sell them sooner or later to the middle classes. Let 
us show that we can die for our children, and to make our 
families free and happy ! ” 

The young euthusiast’s face, with Chaudieu’s, the boat- 
man’s, and that of the stranger seated in the bows, formed 
a picture that deserves to be described, all the more so be- 
cause such a description entails the whole history of that 
epoch, if it be true that itis given to some men to sum up 
in themselves the spirit of their age. 

Religious reform, attempted in Germany by Luther, i in 
Scotland by John Knox, and in France by Calvin, found 
partisans chiefly among those of the lower classes who had 
begun to think. The great nobles encouraged the move- 
ment only to serve other interests quite foreign to the 
religious question. These parties were joined by adven- 
turers, by gentlemen who had lost all, by youngsters to 
whom every form of excitement was acceptable. But 
among the artisans and men employed in trade, faith was 
genuine, and founded on intelligent interests. The poorer 
nations at once gave their adherence to a religion which 
brought the property of the Church. back to the State, 
which suppressed the convents, and deprived the dignitaries 
of the Church of their enormous revenues. Everybody in 
trade calculated the profits from this religious transaction, 
and devoted themselves to it body, soul, and purse; and 
among the youth of the French citizen class, the new 
preaching met that noble disposition for self-sacrifice of 
every kind which animates the young to whom egoism is 
unknown. 

Eminent men, penetrating minds, such as are always to 
be found among the masses, foresaw the Republic in the 
Reformation, and hoped to establish thronghout Europe a 


— 


60 Catherine de’ Medici 


form of government like that of the United Netherlands, 
which at last triumphed over the greatest power of the 
time—Spain, ruled by Philip IL, and represented in the 
Low Countries by the Duke of Alva. Jean Hotoman was 
at that time planning the famous book in which this 
scheme is set forth, which diffused through France the 
leaven of these ideas, stirred up once more by the League, 
subdued by Richelieu, and afterwards by Louis XIV., to 
reappear with the Economists and the Encyclopedists 
under Louis XV., and burst into life under Louis XVI. ; 
ideas which were always approved by the younger branches, 
by the House of Orleans in 1789, as by the House of Bour- 
bon in 1589. 

The questioning spirit is the rebellious spirit. A rebel- 
lion is always either a cloak to hide a prince, or the swad- 
dling wrapper of anewrule. The House of Bourbon, a 


‘younger branch than the Valois, was busy at the bottom of 


the Reformation. At the moment when the little boat lay 
moored under the arch of the Pont au Change, the question 
was further complicated by the ambition of the Guises, 
the rivals of the Bourbons. - Indeed, the Crown as repre- 
sented by Catherine de’ Medici could, for thirty years, hold 
its own in the strife by setting these two factions against 
each other ; whereas later, instead of being clutched at by 
many hands, the Crown stood face to face with the people 
without a barrier between ; for Richelieu and Louis XIV. 
had broken down the nobility, and Louis XV. had oyer- 
thrown the Parlements. Nowa king alone face to face with 
a nation, as Louis XVI. was, must inevitably succumb. 
Christophe Lecamus was very typical of the ardent and 


devoted sons of the people. His palecomplexion had that 


warm burnt hue which is seen in some fair people ; his hair 
was of acoppery yellow; his eyes were bluish-gray, and 
sparkled brightly. In them alone was his noble soul visible, 
for his clumsy features did not disguise the somewhat 
triangular shape of a plain face by lending it the look of 


oh 


| Catherine. de’. Medici: 61 


dignity which a man of rank can assume, and his forehead 
was low, and characteristic only of great energy. His 
vitality seemed to be seated no lower down than his chest, 
which was somewhat hollow. Sinewy, rather than mus- 
cular, Christophe was of tough texture, lean but wiry. 
His sharp nose showed homely cunning, and his counte- 
nance revealed intelligence of the kind that acts wisely on 
one point of a circle, but that has not the power of com- 
manding the whole circumference. His eyes, set under 
brows that projected like a pent-house, and faintly outlined 
with light down, were surrounded with broad light-blue ~ 
circles, with a sheeny white patch at the root of the nose, 
almost always a sign of great excitability. Christophe was 
of the people—the race that fights and allows itself to be 
deceived ; intelligent enough to understand and to servean 
idea, too noble to take advantage of it, too magnanimous 
to sell himself. 

By the side of old Lecamus’ only son, Chaudieu, the 
ardent minister, lean from watchfulness, with brown hair, 
a yellow skin, a contumacious brow, an eloquent mouth, 
fiery hazel eyes, and a short rounded chin, symbolized that 
Christian zeal which gave the Reformation so many fanatical 
and earnest preachers, whose spirit and boldness fired whole 
communities. This aide-de-camp of Calvin and Théodore 
de Béze contrasted well with the furrier’s son. He repre- 
sented the living cause of which Christophe was the effect. 
You could not have conceived of the active firebrand of 
the popular machine under any other aspect. 

The boatman, an impetuous creature, tanned by the 
open air, the dews of night, and the heats of the day, with - 
firmly set lips, quick motions, a hungry, tawny eye like a 
vulture’s, and crisp black hair, was the characteristic 
adventurer who risks his all in an undertaking asa gambler 
stakes his wholefortune on a card. Everything in the 
man spoke of terrible passions and a daring that would 
flinch at nothing. His quivering muscles were as able to 


62 Catherine de’ Medici 


keep silence as to speak. His look was assertive rather 
than noble. His nose, upturned but narrow, scented 
battle. He seemed active and adroit. In any age you 
would haye known him fora party leader. He might have 
been Pizarro, Hernando Cortez, or Morgan the Destroyer 
if there had been no Reformation—a doer of violent deeds. 

The stranger who sat on a seat, wrapped in his cloak, 
evidently belonged to the highest social rank. The fine- 
ness of his linen, the cut, material, and perfume of his 
raiment, the make and texture of his gloves, showed a man 
of the Court, as his attitude, his haughtiness, his cool de- 
meanor, and his flashing eye revealed amanofwar. His ap- 
pearance was at first somewhat alarming, and inspired 
respect. We respect aman whorespects himself. Though 
short and hunchbacked, his manner made good all the de- 
fects of his figure.’ The ice once broken, he had the 
cheerfulness of decisiveness and an indescribable spirit of 
energy which made him attractive. He had the blue eyes 
and the hooked nose of the House of Nayarre, and the 
Spanish look of the marked physiognomy that was char- 
acteristic of the Bourbon kings. 

With three words the scene became of the greatest 
interest. 

«‘ Well, then,”’ said Chaudien, as Christophe Lecamus * 
made his profession of faith, ‘“this boatman is la Renandie ; 
and this is Monseigneur the Prince de Condé,” he added, 
turning to the hunchback. 

Thus the four men were representative of the faith of 
the people, the intellect of eloquence, the arm of the 
soldier, and Royalty cast into the shade. 

‘* You will hear what we require of you,” the minister 
went on, after allowing a pause for the young man’s asto- 
nishment. ‘‘ To the end that you may make no mistakes, 
we are compelled to initiate you into the most important 
secrets of the Reformation.” 

The Prince and la Renaudie assented by a gesture, when 


Catherine de’ Medici | 68 


the minister ceased speaking, to allow the Prince to say 
something if he should wish it. Like all men of rank en- 
gaged in conspiracies, who make it a principle not to ap- 
pear before some critical moment, the Prince kept silence. 
Not from cowardice : at such junctures he was the soul of 
the scheme, shrank from no danger, and risked his head ; 
but with a sort of royal dignity, he left the explanation of 
the enterprise to the preacher, and was content to study 
the new instrument he was compelled to make use of, 

«* My son,” said Chaudieu in Huguenot phraseology, 
“* we are about to fight the first battle against the Roman 
whore. In afew days our soldiers must perish at the stake, 
or the Guises must be dead. So, ere long, the King and 
the two Queens will be in our power. This is the first ap- 
peal to arms by our religion in France, and France will 
not lay them down till she has conquered—it is of the 
nation that I speak, and not of the kingdom. Most of 
the nobles of the kingdom see what the Cardinal de Lor- 
raine and the Duke his brother are driving at. Under 
pretense of defending the Catholic faith, the House of 
Lorraine claims the Crown of France as its inheritance. 
It leans on the Church, and has made it a formidable ally; 
the monks are its supporters, its acolytes and spies. It 
asserts itself as a protector of the throne it hopes to usurp, 
of the Valois whom it hopes to destroy. 

“‘ We have decided to rise up in arms, and it is because 
the liberties of the people are threatened as well as the 
interests of the nobility. We must stifle in its infancy 
a faction as atrocious as that of the Bourguignons, who 
of old put Paris and France to fire and sword. A Louis 
XI. was needed to end the quarrel between the Burgundians 
and the Crown, but now a Prince of Condé will prevent 
the Lorrains from going too far. This is not a civil war; 
it is a duel between the Guises and the Reformation—a 
duel to the death! We will see their heads laid low, or 
they shall crush ours!” 


ta Catherine de’ Medici 


** Well spoken!” said the Prince. 

«Tn these circumstances, Christophe,” la Renandie put 
in, “‘ we must neglect no means of strengthening our party 
—for thero is a party on the side of the Reformation, the 
_ party of offended rights, of the nobles who are sacrificed 
to the Guises, of the old army leaders so shamefully 
tricked at Fontainebleau, whence the Cardinal banished 
them by erecting gibbets to hang those who should ask 
the King for the price of their outfit and arrears of pay.” 

. Yes, my son,” said Chandieu, seeing some signs of 
terror in Christophe, ‘ that is what requires us to triumph 
by fighting instead of triumphing by conviction and mar- 
tyrdom. The Queen-mother is ready to enter into our 
views ; not that she is prepared to abjure the Catholic 
faith—she has not got so far as that, but she may perhaps 
be driven to it by our success. Be that as it may, humil- 
iated and desperate as she is at seeing the power she had 
hoped to wield at the King’s death in the grasp of the 
Guises, and alarmed by the influence exerted by the young 
Queen Marie, who is their niece ana partizan, Queen Cath- 
erine will be inclined to lend her support to the princes 
and nobles who are about to strike a blow for her deliver- 
ance. At this moment, though apparently devoted tothe 
Gnises, she hates them, longs for their ruin, and will make 
use of us to oppose them; but Monseigneur can make use 
of her to oppose all the others. The Queen-mother will 
consent to all we propose. We have the Connétable on 
our side—Monseigneur has just seen him at Chantilly, but 
he will not stir without orders from his superiors. Being 
Monseigneur’s uncle, he will not leave us in the lurch, and 
our generous Prince will not hesitate to rush into danger 
to enlist Anne de Montmorency. 

«‘ Everything is ready; and we have cast our eyes on 
you to communicate to Queen Catherine our treaty of alli- 
ance, our schemes for edicts, and the basis of the new rule. 
The Court is at Blois. Many of our friends are there; 


Catherine de’ Medici 65 


but those are our future chiefs——and, like Monseigneur,” 
and he bowed to the Prince, “they must never be sus- 
pected ; we must sacrifice ourselves for them. The. 
Queen-mother and our friends are under such close es- 
pionage, that it is impossible to communicate with them 
through any one who is known, or of any consequence. 
Such a person would at once be suspected, and would 
never be admitted to speak with Madame Catherine. God 
should indeed give us at this moment the shepherd David 
with his sling to attack Goliath de Guise. Your father— 
a good Catholic, more’s the pity—is furrier to the two 
Queens; he always has some garment or trimming in hand 
for them ; persuade him to send you to the Court. You 
will arouse no suspicions, and will not compromise Queen - 
Catherine. Any one of our leaders might lose his head 
for an imprudence which should give rise to a suspicion of 
the Queen-mother’s connivance with us. But where a 
man of importance, once caught out, gives a clue to 
suspicions, a nobody like you escapes scot-free.—You see ! 
The Guises have so many spies, that nowhere but in the 
middle of the river can we talk without fears So you, my 
son, are likea man on guard, doomed to die at his post. 
Understand, if you are taken, you areabandoned by us all. 
If need be, we shall cast opprobrium and disgrace on you. 
If we should be forced to it, we should declare that yon 
were a creature of the Guises whom they sent to play a 
part to implicate us. So what we ask of you is entire 
self-sacrifice. 

“If you perish,” said the Prince de Condé, “‘I pledge 
my word as a gentleman that your family shall be a sacred 
trust to the House of Navarre ; I will bear it in my heart 
and serve it in every way.” : 

«That word, my Lord, is enough,” replied Christophe, 
forgetting that this leader of faction wasa Gascon. ‘ We 
live in times when every man, prince or citizen, must do 
his duty.” 

5 2 


66 Catherine de’ Medici 


«That is a true Huguenot ! If all our men were like 
him,” said la Renaudie, laying his hand on Christophe’s 
shoulder, ‘* we should have won by to-morrow.” 

«Young man,” said the Prince, ‘‘ I meant to show you 
that while Chaudieu preaches and the gentleman bears 
arms, the prince fights. Thus, in so fierce a game every 
stake has its value.” 

«« Listen,” said la Renaudie ; ‘‘I will not give you the 
papers till we reach Beaugency, for we must run no 
risks on the road. You will find me on the quay there; 
my face, voice, and clothes will be so different that you 
may not recognize me. But I will say to you, ‘Are you 
a Guépin?’ and you must reply, ‘ At your service.’— 
As to the manner of proceeding, I will tell you. You 
will find a horse at la Pinte fleurie, near Saint-Germain 
VAuxerrois. Ask there for Jeanle Breton, who will take 
you to the stable and mount you on a nag of mine, known 
to cover thirty leagues in eight hours. Leave Paris by the 
Bussy gate. - Breton has a pass for me ; take it for your- 
self and be off, riding round outside the towns. You 
should reach Orleans by daybreak.” 

«« And the horse ?” asked Lecamus. 

“He will hold out till you get to Orleans,” replied la 
Renaudie. ‘‘ Leave him outside the suburb of Bannier, 
for the gates are well guarded ; we must not arouse sus- 
picion. You, my friend, must play your part well. You 
must make up any story that may seem to you best to 
enable you to go to the third house on your left on enter- 
ing Orleans ; it is that of one Tourillon, a glover. Knock 
three raps on the door and call out, ‘In the service of 
Messieurs de Guise !” The man affects to be a fanatical 
Guisard ; we four only know that he is on our side. He 
will find you a boatman, such another as himself, of course, 
but devoted to our cause. Go down to the river at once, 
get into a boat painted green with a white border. You 
ought to be at Beaugency by noonday to-morrow, There 


Catherine de’ Medici 67 


I will put you in the way of getting a boat to carry you 
down to Blois without running any danger. Our enemies 
the Guises do not command the Loire, only the river-ports. 

‘*You may thus see the Queen in the course of to- 
morrow or of the next day.” 

‘‘' Your words are graven here,” said Christophe, touch- 
ing his forehead. 

Chaudiet embraced his son with a religious fervency ; 
he was proud of him. 

‘‘ The Lord protect you !” he said, pointing to the sun- 
set which crimsoned the old roofs covered with shingles, 
and shot fiery gleams among the forest of beams round 
which the waters foamed. 

‘‘You are of the stock of old Jacques Bonhomme,” 
said la Renaudie to Christophe, wringing his hand. 

‘¢ Weshall meet again, Monsieur,” said the Prince, with 
a gesture of infinite graciousness, almost of friendliness. 

With a stroke of the oar, la Renaudie carried the young 
conspirator back to the steps leading up to the house, and 
the boat vanished at once under the arches of the Pont au 
Change. 

thristophe shook the iron gate that closed the entrance 
from the river-side and called out. Mademoiselle Lecamus 
heard him, opened one of the windows of the back-shop, 
and asked how he came there. Christophe replied that 
he was half-frozen, and that she must first let him in. 

«‘ Young master,” said la Bourguignonne, *‘ you went 
out by the street door and come in by the river-gate ? 
Your father will be in a pretty rage.” 

Christophe, bewildered by the secret conference which 
had brought him into contact with the Prince de Condé, 
la Renaudie, and Chaudieu, and even moreagitated by the 
expected turmoil of an imminent civil war, made no reply ; 
he hurried up from the kitchen tothe back-shop.. There, 
on seeing him, his mother, who was a bigoted old Catholic, 
could not contain herself. 


68 Catherine de’ Medici 


“*T will wager,” she broke out, “that the three men 
you were talking to were ref——” 

** Silence, wife,” said the prudent old man, wien white 
head was bent over a book. ‘‘ Now, you lazy oafs,” he 
went on to three boys who had long since finished sup- 
per, ‘“‘ what are you waiting for to take you tobed? It is 
eight o’clock. You must be up by five in the morning. 
And first you have the President de Thou’s robes and cap 
to carry home, Go all three together, and carry sticks 
and rapiers. If you meet any more ne’er-do-weels of your 
own kidney, at any rate there will be three of you.” 

«¢ And are we to carry the ermine surcoat ordered by the 
young Queen, which is to be delivered at the Hétel de 
Soissons, from whence there is an express to Blois and to the 
Queen-mother ? ” asked one of the lads. 

“No,” said the Syndic ; ‘‘ Queen Catherine’s account 
amounts to three thousand crowns, and I must get the 
money. I think I will go to Blois myself.” 

‘J should not think of allowing you, at your age, 
Father, and in such times as these, to expose yourself on 
the high roads. Jam two-and-twenty ; you may send me 
on this errand,” said Christophe, with an eye on a box 
which he had no doubt contained the surcoat. 

«‘ Are you glued to the bench ?” cried the old man to 
the apprentices, who hastily took up their rapiers and 
capes, and Monsieur de Thou’s fur gown. 

_ This illustrious man was to be received on the morrow 

by the Parliament as their President ; he had just signed 
the death warrant of the Councillor du Bourg, and was 
fated, before the year was out, to sit in judgment on the 
Prince de Condé. 

«‘La Bourguignonne,” said the old man, “go and ask 
my neighbor Lallier if he willsup with us this evening, 
furnishing the wine ; we will give the meal.—And, above 
all, tell him to bring his daughter.” 


Bert Catherine de’ Medici 69 


The Syndic of the Guild of Furriers was a handsome old 
man of sixty, with whité hair and a broad high forehead. 
As furrier to the Court for forty. years past, he had wit- 
nessed all the revolutions in the reign of Francis I, and 
had retained his royal patent in spite of feminine rivalries. 
He had seen the arrival at Court of Catherine de’ Medici, 
then but just fifteen; he had seen her succumb to the 
Duchesse d’Etampes, her father-in-law’s mistress, and to the 
Duchesse de Valentinois, mistress to the late King, her 
husband. -But through all these changes the furrier had - 
got into no difficulties, though the Court purveyors often 
fell into disgrace with the ladies they served. His prudence 
was as great as his wealth. He maintained an attitude of 
excessive humility. Pride had never caught him in its 
snares. The man was so modest, so meek, so obliging, so 
poor—at Court and in the presence of queens, princesses, 
and favorites—that his servility had saved his shop-sign. 

Such a line of policy betrayed, of course, a cunning and 
clear-sighted man. Humble as he was to the outer world, 
at home he wasa despot. He was the unquestioned mas- 
ter in his own house. He was highly respected by his 
fellow merchants, and derived immense consideration from 
his long tenure of the first place in business. Indeed, he 
was gladly helpful to others ; and among the services he 
had done, the most important perhaps was the support he 
had long afforded to the most famous surgeon of the six- 
teenth century—Ambroise Paré, who owed it to Lecamus 
that he could pursue his studies. In all the disputes that 
arose between the merchants of the guild, Lecamus was for 
conciliatory measures. Thus general esteem had confirmed 
his supremacy among his equals, while his assumed char- 
acter had preserved him the favor of the Court. 

Having for political reasons, maneuvered in his parish 
for the glory of his trade, he did what was needful to keep 
himself in a sufficient odor of sanctity with the priest of 
the Church of Saint-Pierre aux Booufs, who regarded him 


4 


70 Catherine de’ Medici 


as one of the men most devoted in all Paris to the Catholic 
faith. Consequently, when the States-General were con- 
voked, Lecamus was unanimously elected to represent the 
third estate by the influence of the priests, which was at 
that time enormous in Paris. 

This old man was one of those deep and silent ambitious 
men who for fifty years are submissive to everybody in turn, 
creeping up from place to place, no one knowing how, till 
they are seen peacefully seated in a position which no one, 
not even the boldest, would have dared to admit was the goal 
of his ambition at the beginning of his life—so long was 
the climb, so many gulfs were there to leap, into which he 
might fall! Lecamus, who had hidden away a large for- 
tune, would run no risks, and was planning a splendid fu- 
ture for his son. Instead of that persorial ambition which 
often sacrifices the future to the present, he had family 
ambition, a feeling that seems lost in these days, smothered 
by the stupid regulation of inheritance by law. Lecamus 
foresaw himself President of the Paris Parlement in the 
person of his grandson. 

Christophe, the godson of the great historian de Thou, 
had received an excellent education, but it had led him to 
skepticism and inquiry, which indeed were increasing apace 
among the students and Faculties of the University. 
Christophe, was at present studying for the bar, the first 
step to a judgeship. The old furrier pretended to be un- 
decided asto hisson’s career ; sometimes he would make 
Christophe his successor, and sometimes he would have 
him a pleader ; but in his heart he longed to see this son 
in the seat of a Councilor of the Parlement. The furrier 
longed to place the house of Lecamus on a par with the old 
and honored families of Paris citizens which had produced 
a Pasquier, a Molé, a Miron, a Séguier, Lamoignon, du 
Tillét, Lecoigneux, Lescalopier, the Goix, the Arnaulds, 
—all the famous sheriffs and high-provosts of corporations 
who had rallied to defend the throne, 


Catherine de’ Medici 71 


To the end that Christophe might in that day do credit 
to his rank, he wanted him to marry the daughter of the 
richest goldsmith in the Cité, his neighbor Lallier, whose 
nephew, at a later day, presented the keys of Paris to Henri 
IV. The most deeply-rooted purpose in the good man’s 
heart was to spend half his own fortune and baif of Lal- 
lier’s in the purchase of a lordly estate, along and diffi- 
cult matter in those days. 

But he was tov deep a schemer, and knew the times too 
well, to-overlook the great movements that were being 
hatched ; he saw plainly, and saw truly, when he looked 
forward to the division of the kingdom into two camps. 
The useless executions on the Place de l’Estrapade, that 
of Henry II.’s tailor and that, still more recent, of the 
Councilor Anne du Bourg, besides the connivance of the 
reigning favorite in the time of Francis I., and of many 
nobles now, at the progress of reform, all were alarming 
indications. The furrier was determined, come what 
might, to remain faithful to the Church, the Monarchy, 
and the Parlement, but he was secretly well content that 
his son should join the Reformation. He knew that he 
had wealth enough to ransom Christophe if the lad should 
ever compromise himself seriously ; and then, if France 
should turn Calvinist, hisson could save the family in any 
furious outbreaks in the capital such as the citizens could 
vividly remember, and as would recur again and again — 
through four reigns. 

Like Louis XIJ., the old furrier never confessed these 
thoughts even to himself ; his cunning completely deceived 
his wife and his son. For many a day this solemn person- 
age had been the recognized head of the most populous 
quarter of Paris—the heart of the city—bearing the title 
of Quartenier, which became notorious fifteen years later. 
Clothed in cloth, like every prudent citizen who obeyed 
the sumptuary laws, Master Lecamus—the Sieur Lecamus, 
a title he held in virtue of an edict of Charles V. permit- 


72 ‘ Catherine de’ Medici 


ting the citizens of Paris to purchase Seignewries, and their 
wives to assume the fine title of demovselle or mistress— 
wore no gold chain, no silk ; only astout doublet with large 
buttons of blackened silver, wrinkled hose drawn up above 
his knee, and leather shoes with buckles. His shirt, of 
fine linen, was pulled out, in the fashion of the time, into 
full puffs through his half-buttoned waistcoat and slashed 
trunks. 

Though the full light of the lamp fell on the old man’s 
broad and handsome head, Christophe had no inkling of — 
the thoughts hidden behind that rich Dutch-looking com- 
plexion ; still he understood that his old father meant to 
take some advantage of his affection for pretty Babette 
Lallier. And Christophe, as a man who has laid his own 
schemes, smiled sadly when he heard the invitation sent 
to his fair mistress. 

As soon as la Bourguignonne and the apprentices were 
gone, old Lecamus looked at his wife with an expression 
that fully showed his firm and resolute temper. 

«‘You will never rest till you have got the boy hanged 
with your damned tongue ! ” said he in stern tones, 

«‘T woud rather see him hanged, but saved, than alive 
and a Huguenot,” was the gloomy reply. ‘To think 
that the child I bore within me for nine months should 
not be a good Catholic, but hanker after the heresies of 
Colas—that he must spend all eternity in hell——!” and 
she began to cry. 

**You old fool!” said the furrier, ‘‘ then give hima 
chance of life, if only to convert him! Why, you said a 
thing, before the apprentices, which might set our house 
on fire, and roast us all in it like fieas in straw.” 

The mother crossed herself, but said nothing. 

‘© As for you,” said the good man, with a scrutinizing 
look at his son, ‘‘ tell me what you were doing out there 
on the water with—— Come close to me while I speak to 
you,” he added, seizing his son by the arm, and drawing 


- Catherine de’ Medici 78 
him close to him while he whispered in the lad’s ear—*‘ with 
the Prince de Condé.” Christophe started. “Do you 
suppose that the Oourt furrier does not know all their 
faces? And do you fancy that I am not aware of what is 
going on? Monseigneur the Grand Master has ordered 
out troops to Amboise. And when troops are removed 
from Paris to Amboise while the Court is at Blois, when 
they are marched by way of Chartresand Vendéme instead 
of by Orleans, the meaning is pretty clear, heh ? Trouble 
is brewing. 

Tf the Queens want their surcoats, they will send for 
them. The Prince de Condé may be intending to kill 
Messieurs de Guise, who on their part mean to get rid of 
him perhaps. Of what use can a furrier’sson be in sucha 
broil? When you are married, when you are a pleader in 
the Parlement, you will be as cautious as your father. A 
furrier’s son has no business to be of the new religion till 
all the rest of the world is. I say nothing against the 
Reformers; it isno business of mine; but the Court is 
Catholic, the two Queens are Catholic, the Parlement is 
Catholic : we serve them with furs, and we must be Catholic. 

‘* You do not stir from here, Christophe, or I will place 
you with your godfather the Président de Thou, who will 
keep you at it, blackening paper night and day, instead of 
leaving you to blacken your soul in the hell-broth of these 
damned Genevese.” 

‘«« Father,” said Christophe, leaning on the back of the 
old man’s chair, “‘ send me off to Blois with Queen Marie’s 
surcoat, and to ask for the money, or I am a lost man. 
And you love me——” 

“Lost!” echoed his father, without any sign of sur- 
prise. ‘Ifyou stay here, you will not be lost. I shall 
know where to find you.” 

“ T shall be killed.” 

warny.t* 

The most zealous Huguenots have cast their eyes on 

e 


74 | Catherine de’ Medici 


me to serve them in a certain matter, and if I fail to do 
what I hve just promised, they will kill me in the street, 
in the face of day, here, as Minard was killed. But if you 
send me to the Court on business of your own, I shall 
probably be able to justify my action to both parties. 
Either I shall succeed for them without running any risk, 
and so gain a good position in the party ; or, if the danger 
is too great, I can do your business only.” 

The old man started to his feet as if his seat were of 

red-hot iron. 
‘‘ Wife,” said he, “‘leave us, and see that no one in- 
trudes on Christophe and me.” 

When Mistress Lecamus had left the room, the furrier 
‘took his son by a button and led him to the corner of the 

room which formed the angle towards the bridge. 

“‘ Christophe,” said he, quite into his son’s ear, as he 
- had just now spoken of the Prince de Condé, ‘‘ be a Hu- 
guenot if that is your pet vice, but with prudence, in your 
secret heart, and not in such a way as to be pointed at by 
every one in the neighborhood. What you have just told 
me shows me what confidence the leaders have in you.— 
What are you to'do at the Court ?” 

«1 cannot tell you,” said Christophe ; “‘ I do not quite 
know that myself yet.” 

«‘H’m, h’m,” said the old man, looking at the lad, ‘‘ the 
young rascal wants to hoodwink his father. He will go 
far !—Well, well,” he went on, in an undertone, ‘‘ you are 
. not going to Blois to make overtures to the Guises, nor to 
the little King our Sovereign, nor to little Queen Mary. 
All these are Catholics ; but I could swear that the Italian 
Queen owes the Scotch woman and the Lorrains some 
grudge: I know her. She has been dying to put a finger 
in the pie. The late King was so much afraid of her 
that, like the jewelers, he used diamond to cut diamond, 
one woman against another. Hence Queen Catherine’s 
hatred of the poor Duchesse de Valentinois, from whom 


Catherine de’ Medici 16 


she took the fine Chateau of Chenonceaux. But for Mon- 
sieur le Connétable, the Duchess would have had her neck 
wrung at least-—— 

‘¢ Hands off, my boy! Do not trust yourself within 
reach of the Italian woman, whose only passions are in her 
head ; a bad sort that.—Ay, the business you are sent to 
the Court to do will give you a bad headache, I fear,” 
cried the father, seeing that Christophe was about to speak. 
‘« My boy, I have two schemes for your future life; you 
will not spoil them by being of service to Queen Catherine. 
But, for God’s sake, keep your head on your shoulders! 
And the Guises would cut it off as la Bourguignonne cuts 
off a turnip, for the people who are employing you would 
throw you over at once.” 

«*T know that, father,” said Christophe. 

«© And you are so bold as that! You know it, and you 
will risk it ?” 

«* Yes, father.” 

«* Why, the Devil’s in it!” cried the old man, hugging 
his son, ‘‘ we may understand each other; you are your 
father’s son.—My boy, you will be a credit to the family, 
and your old father may be plain with you, I see.—But 
do not be more of a Huguenot than the Messieurs de 
Coligny ; and do not draw your sword. You are to be a 
man of the pen ; stick to your part as a sucking lawyer.— 
Well, tell me no more till you have succeeded. If I hear 
nothing of you for four days after you reach Blois, that 
silence will tell me that you are in danger. Then the old 
man will follow to save the young one. I have not sold 
furs for thirty years without knowing the seamy side of a 
Court robe. I can find means of opening doors.” 

Christophe stared with amazement at hearing his father 
speak thus ; but he pomeed some parental snare, and held 
his tongue. 

Then he said— 

‘Very well, make up the account; write a letter to the 


76 Catharins de’ Medici 


Queen. I must be off this moment, or dreadfal things 
will happen.” 
- © Be off? But how?” 

‘«*T will buy a horse.—Write, for God’s sake !” 

“Here! Mother! Give your boy some money,” the 
furrier called out to his wife. 

She came in, flew to her chest, and gave a purse to 
Christophe, who excitedly kissed her. 

“The account was ready,” said his father ; “here it is. 
I will write the letter.” 

Christophe took the bill and put it in his pocket. 

«But at any rate you will sup with us,” said the good- 
man. ‘In this extremity you and the Lallier girl must 
exchange rings.” 

“‘ Well, I will go to fetch her,” cried Christophe. 

The young man feared some indecision in his father, 
whose character he did not thoroughly appreciate ; he 
went up to his room, dressed, took outa small trunk, 
stole down-stairs, and placed it with his cloak and rapier 
under a counter in the shop. 

“‘ What the devil are you about?” asked his father, 
hearing him there. 

‘I do not want any one to see my preparations for 
leaving ; I-have put everything under the counter,” he 
whispered in reply. 

«< And here is the letter,” said his father. 

_ Christophe took the paper, and went out as if to fetch 
their neighbor. 

A few moments after Christophe had gone out, old 
Lallier and his daughter came in, preceded by a woman- 
servant carrying three bottles of old wine. 

** Well, and where is Christophe ?” asked the furrier 
and his wife. 

** Chrictophe ?” said Babette ; “ we have not seen him.” 

“‘ A pretty rogue is my son!” cried Lecamus. ‘‘ He 
tricks me as if I had no beard. Why, old gossip, what 


Catherine de’ Medici 17 


will come to us ? We live in times when the children are 
all too clever for their fathers ! ” 

‘* But he has long been regarded by all the neighbors as 
a mad follower of Colas,” said Lallier. 

“«* Defend him stoutly on that score,” said the furrier to 
the goldsmith. ‘‘ Youth is foolish, and runs after any- 
thing new ; but Babette will keep him quiet, she is even 
newer than Calvin.” 

Babette smiled. She truly loved Christophe, was af- 
fronted by everything that was ever said againsthim. She 
was a girl of the good old middle-class type, brought up 
under her mother’s eye, for she had never left her; her 
demeanor was as gentle and precise as her features; she 
was dressed in stuff of harmonious tones of gray ; her ruff, 
plainly pleated, was a contrast by its whiteness to her sober 
gown ; on her head was a black velvet cap, like a child’s 
hood in shape, but trimmed, on each side of her face, with 
frills and ends of tan-colored gauze. Though she was fair- 
haired, with a white skin, she seemed cunning and crafty, 
though trying to hide her wiliness under the expression 
of a simple and honest girl. 

As long as the two women remained in the room, com- 
ing to and fro to lay the cloth, and place the jugs, the 
large pewter dishes, and the knives and forks, the gold- 
smith and his daughter, the furrier and his wife, sat in 
front of the high chimney-place, hung with red serge and 
black fringes, talking of nothing. It was in vain that 
Babette asked where Christophe could be; the young 
Huguenot’s father and mother made ambiguous replies ; 
but as soon as the party had sat down to their meal, and 
the two maids were in the kitchen, Lecamus said to his 
future daughter-in-law— 

‘* Christophe is gone to the Court.” 

“To Blois? What a journey to take without saying 
good-by to me !” said Babette. 

‘* He was in a great hurry,” said his old mother. 


78 Catherine de’ Medici 


“« Old friend,” said the furrier to Lallier, taking up the 
thread of the conversation, ‘‘ we are going to see hot work 
in France ; the Reformers are astir.” 

«Tf they win the day, it will only be after long fighting, 
which will be very bad for trade,” said Lallier, incapable 
of looking higher than the commercial point of view. 

“My father, who had seen the end of the wars between 
the Bourguignons and the Armagnacs, told me that our 
family would never have lived through them if one of his 
grandfathers—his mother’s father—had not been one of 
the Goix, the famous butchers at the Halle, who were at-. 
tached to the Bourguignons, while the other, a Lecamus, 
was on the side of the Armagnacs; they pretended to be 
ready to flay each other before the outer world, but at 
home they were very good friends. So we will try to save 
Christophe. Perhaps a time may come when he will save 
us.” 

‘*You are a cunning dog, neighbor,” said the gold- 
smith. 

“No,” replied Lecamus. ‘‘ The citizen class must take 
care of itself, the populace and the nobility alike owe 
it a grudge. Everybody is afraid of the middle class in 
Paris excepting the King, who knows us to be his friends.” 

«¢ You who know so much, and who have seen so much,” 
said Babette timidly, ‘‘ pray tell me what it is that the 
Reformers want.” 

«‘ Ay, tell us that, neighbor!” cried the goldsmith. 
<‘T knew the late King’s tailor, and I always took him to 
be a simple soul, with no great genius; he was much such 
another as you are, they would have given him the Host 
without requiring him to confess, and all the time he was 
up to his eyes in this new religion.—He! a man whose 
ears were worth many hundred thousand crowns. He must 
have known some secrets worth hearing for the King and 
Madame de Valentinois to be present when he was tortured.” 

** Ay ! and terrible secrets too,” said the furrier. ‘‘ The 


Catherine de’ Medici 79 


Reformation, my friends,” he went on, in a low voice, 
«< will give the Church lands back to the citizen class. 
When ecclesiastical privileges are annulled, the Reformers 
mean to claim equality of taxation for the nobles and the 
middle class, and to have only the King above all alike— 
if indeed they have a king at all.” 

‘‘ What, do away with the Throne ?” cried Lallier. 

“Well, neighbor,” said Lecamus, ‘‘in the Low Coun- 
tries the citizens govern themselves by provosts over them, 
who elect a temporary chief.” 

‘‘God bless me! Neighbor, we might do all these fine 
things, and still be Catholics,” said the goldsmith. 

“We are too old to see the triumph of the middle class 
in Paris, but it will triumph, neighbor, all in good time, 
all in good time! Why, the King is bound to rely on us 
to hold his own, and we have always been well paid for 
our support. And the last time all the citizens were en- 
nobled, and they had leave to buy manors, and take the 
names of their estates without any special letters patent 
from the King. You and I, for instance, grandsons of 
the Goix in the female line, are we not as good as many 
a nobleman !” 

This speech was so alarming to the goldsmith and the 
two women, that it was followed by a long silence. The 
leaven of 1789 was already germinating in the blood of 
Lecamus, who was not yet so old but that he lived to see 
the daring of his class under the Ligue. 

«Tg business pretty firm in spite of all this turmoil ?” 
Lallier asked the furrier’s wife. 

“It always upsets trade a little,” said she. 

‘‘ Yes, and sol have a great mind to make a lawyer 
of my son,” added Lecamus. ‘‘ People are always going 
to law.” 

The conversation then dwelt on the commonplace, to 
the goldsmith’s great satisfaction, for he did not like polit- 
ical disturbances or over-boldness of thought. 


80 Catherine de’ Medici 


The banks of the Loire, from Blois as far as Angers, 
were always greatly favored by the two last branches of 
the Royal Family who occupied the throne before the 
advent of the Bourbons. This beautiful valley so well 
deserves the preference of kings, that one of our most’ 
elegant writers describes it as follows :—‘‘ There is a prov- 
ince in France which is never sufficiently admired. As 
fragrant as Italy, as flowery as the banks of the Guadal- 
quivir, beautiful besides with its own peculiar beauty. 
Wholly French, it has always been French, unlike our 
Northern provinces, debased by Teutonic influence, or 
our Southern provinces, which have been the concubines 
of the Moors, of the Spaniards, of every nation that has 
coveted them—this pure, chaste, brave, and loyal tract is 
Touraine! There is the seat of historic France. An- 
vergne is Auvergne, Languedoc is Languedoc and noth- 
ing more; but Touraine is France, and the truly national 
river to us is the Loire which waters Touraine. We need 
not, therefore, be surprised to find such a quantity of 
monuments in the departments which have taken their 
names from that of the Loire and its derivations. At 
every step in that land of enchantment we come upon a 
picture of which the foreground is the river, or some calm 
reach, in whose liquid depths are mirrored a chateau, with 
its turrets, its woods, and its dancing springs. It was 
only natural that large fortunes should center round 
_ spots where Royalty preferred to live, and where it so long 
held its Court, and that distinguished birth and merit 
should crowd thither and build palaces on a par with 
Royalty itself.” 

Is it not strange, indeed, that our sovereigns should 
never have taken the advice indirectly given them by 
Lonis XI., and have made Tours the capital of the king- 
dom? Without any very great expenditure, the Loire 
might have been navigable so far for trading vessels and 
light ships of war. There the seat of Government would 


Cath erine de’ Medici 81 


have been safe from surprise and high-handed invasion. 
There the atrongholds of the north would not have needed 
such sums for their fortifications, which alone have cost 
as much money as all the splendors of Versailles. If Louis 
XIV. had listened to Vauban’s advice, and had his palace 
built at Mont-Louis, between the Loire and the Cher, 
perhaps the Revolution of 1789 would never have taken 
place. 

So these fair banks bear, at various spots, clear marks 
of royal-favor. ‘The chdteaux of Chambord, Blois, Am- 
boise, Chenonceaux, Chaumont, Plessis-les-Tours, all the 
residences built by kings’ mistresses, by financiers, and 
noblemen, at Véretz, Azay-le-Rideau, Ussé, Villandri, 
Valengay, Chanteloup, and Duretal, some of which have 
disappeared, though most are still standing, are splendid 
buildings, full of the wonders of the period that has been 
so little appreciated by the literary sect of Medievalists. 

Of all these chateaux, that of Blois, where the Court 
was then residing, is the one on which the magnificence of 
the Houses of Orleans and of Valois has most splendidly 
set its stamp; and it is the most curious to historians, 
archsologists, and Catholics. At that time it stood quite 
alone. The town, enclosed in strong walls with towers, 
lay below the stronghold, for at that time the chateau 
served both as a citadel and as a country residence. Over- 
looking the town, of which the houses, then as now, 
climbed the hill on the right bank of the river, their blue 
slate roofs in close array, there is a triangular plateau, 
divided by a stream, now unimportant since it runs un- 
derground, but in the fifteenth century, as historians tell 
us, flowing at the bottom of a rather deep ravine, part of 
which remains as a deep hollow-way, almost a precipice, 
between the suburb and the chateau. 

It was on this plateau, with a slope to the north and 
south, that the Comtes de Blois built themselves a *‘ castel ” 
in 7% architecture of the twelfth century, where the 


° 


82 Catherine de’ Medici See 


notorious Thibault le Tricheur, Thibault le Vieux, and 
many more held a court that became famous. In those 
days of pure feudal rule, when the King was no more than 
inter pares primus (the first among equals), as a King of 
‘Poland finely expressed it, the Counts of Champagne, of 
Blois, and of Anjou, the mere Barons of Normandy, and 
the Dukes of Brittany lived in the style of sovereigns and 
gave kings to the proudest kingdoms. The Plantagenets 
of Anjou, the Lusignans of Poitou, the Roberts and Wil- 
liams of Normandy, by their audacious courage mingled 
their blood with royal races, and sometimes a simple 
knight, like du Glaicquin (or du Guesclin), refused royal 
purple and preferred the Constable’s sword. 

When the Crown had secured Blois as a royal demesne, 
Louis XII., who took a fancy to the place, porhaps to get 
away from Plessis and its sinister associations, built on to 
the chateau, at an angle, so as to face east and west, a 
wing connecting the residence of the Counts of Blois with 
the older structure, of which nothing now remains but 
the immense hall where the States-General sat under 
Henri III. Francis I., before he fell in love with Cham- 
bord, intended to finish the chdteau by building on the 
other two sides of a square; bat he abandoned Blois for 
Chambord, and erected only one wing, which in his time 
and in that of his grandsons practically constituted the 
chateau. 

This third building of Francis I.’s is much more exten- 
sive and more highly decorated than the Louvre de Henri 
IT,, as it is called. It is one of the most fantastic efforts 
of the architecture of the Renaissance. Indeed, at a time 
when a more reserved style of building prevailed and no 
one cared for the Middle Ages, a time when literature was 
not so intimately allied with art as it now is, la Fontaine 
wrote of the Chateau of Blois in his characteristically art- 
less language : ‘‘ Looking at it from outside, the part done 
by order of Francis I. pleased me more than all the reat ; 


Catherine de’ Medici oe 


there are a number of little windows, little balconics, little 
colonnades, little ornaments, not regularly ordered, which 
make up something great which I found very pleasing.” 
Thus the Chateau of Blois had the attraction of repre- 
senting three different kinds of srchitecture—three periods, 
three systems, three dynasties. And there is not, perhaps, 
any other royal residence which in this respect can com- 
pare with it. ‘The vast- building shows, in one enclosure, 
in one courtyard, a complete picture of that great product 
of national life and manners which Architecture always is, 
At the time when Christophe was bound for the Court, 
that portion of the precincts on which a fourth palace 
now stands—the wing added seventy years later, during 
his exile, by Gaston, Louis XIII.’s rebellious brother— 
was laid out in pastures and terraced gardens, picturesquely 
scattered among the foundation stones and unfinished 
towers begun by Francis I. These gardens were joined 
by a bold flying bridge—which some old inhabitants still 
alive saw destroyed—to a garden on the other side of the 
chateau, which by the slope of the ground lay on the same 
level. The gentlemen attached to Queen Anne de Bre- 
tagne, or those who approached her with petitions from 
her native province, to discuss, or to inform her of the 
state of affairs there, were wont to await her pleasure here, 
her /ever, or the hour of her walking out. Hence history 


has handed down to us as the name of this pleasaunce Le, 


Perchoir aux Bretons (the Bretons’ Perch) ; it now is an 
orchard belonging to some private citizen, projecting be- 
yond the Place des Jésuites. That square also was then 
included in the domain of this noble residence which had 
its upper and its lower gardens. At some distance from 
the Place des Jésuites, a summer-house may still be seen 
buili by Catherine de’ Medici, as local historians tell us, 
to accommodate her hot baths. This statement enables 
us to trace the very irregular arrangement of the gardens 
which went up and down hill, following the undulations 


84 BES Catherine de’ Medici 


of the soil ; the land about the chateau is indeed very un- 
even, a fact which added to its strength, and, as we shall 
see, caused the difficulties of the Duc de Guise. 

The gardens were reached by corridors and terraces ; 
the chief corridor was known as the Galerie des Cerfs (or 
stags), on account of its decorations. This passage led to 
a magnificent staircase, which undoubtedly suggested the 
famous double staircase at Chambord, and which led to 
the apartments on each floor. 

Though la Fontaine preferred the chateau of Francis I. 
to that of Louis XII., the simplicity of the Pére du Peu- 
ple may perhaps charm the genuine artist, much as he 
may admire the splendor of the more chivalrous king. 
The elegance of the two staircases which lie at the two 
extremities of Louis XII.’s building, the quantity of 
fine and original carving, of which, though time has 
damaged them, the remains are still the delight of anti- 
quaries ; everything, to the almost cloister-like arrange- 
ment of the rooms, points to very simple habits. As yet 
the Court was evidently non-existent, or had not attained 
such development as Francis I. and Catherine de’ Medici 
subsequently gave it, to the great detriment of fendal 
manners. As we admire the brackets, the capitals of 
some of the columns, and some little fignres of exquisite 
delicacy, it is impossible not to fancy that Michel Colomb, 
the great sculptor, the Michael Angelo of Brittany, 
must have passed that way to do his Queen Anne a pleas- 
ure, before immortalizing her on her father’s tomb—the 
last Duke of Brittany. 

Whatever la Fontaine may say, nothing can be more 
stately than the residence of Francis, the magnificent 
King. Thanks to I know not what coarse indifference, 
perhaps to utter forgetfulness, the rooms occupied by 
Catherine de’ Medici and her son Francis II. still remain 
almost in their original state. The historian may reani- 
mate them with the tragical scenes of the Reformation, of 


Catherine de’ Medici 85 


which the struggle of the Guises and the Bourbons against 
the House of Valois formed a complicated drama played 
out on this spot. 

The buildings of Francis I. quite crush the simpler res- 
idence of Louis XII. by sheer mass. From the side of 
the lower gardens, that is to say, from the modern Place 


‘des Jésuites, the chateau is twice as lofty as from the side 


towards the inner court. The ground floor, in which are 
the famous corridors, is the second floor in the garden 
front. Thus the first floor, where Queen Catherine 
resided, is in fact the third, and the royal apartments are 
on the fourth above the lower garden, which at that time 
was divided from the foundations by a very deep moat. 


Thus the chateau, imposing as it is from the court, seems © 


quite gigantic when seen from the Place as la Fontaine 
saw it, for he owns that he never had been into the court 
or the rooms. From the Place des Jésuites every detail 
looks small. The balconies you can walk along, the colon- 
nades of exquisite workmanship, the sculptured windows 
—their recesses within, as large as small rooms, and used, 
in fact, at that time as boudoirs—have a general effect re- 
sembling the painted fancies of operatic scenery when the 
artist represents a fairy palace. But once inside the court, 
the infinite delicacy of this architectural ornamentation 
is displayed, to the joy of the amazed spectator, though 
the stories above the ground floor are, even there, as high 
as the Pavillon de l’Horloge at the Tuileries. 


This part of the building, where Catherine and Mary , 


Stewart held magnificent court, had in the middle of the 
facade a hexagonal hollow tower, up which winds a stair- 
case in stone, an arabesque device invented by giants and 
executed by dwarfs to give this front the effect of adream. 
The balustrade of the stairs rises in a spiral of rectangular 
panels composing the five walls of the tower, and forming 
at regular intervals a transverse cornice, enriched outside 
and in with florid carvings in stone. This bewildering 


— 


86 Catherine de’ Medici 


creation, full of delicate and ingenious details and marvels 
of workmanship by which these stones speak to us, can 
only be compared to the overcharged and deeply cut ivory 
carvings that come from China, or are made at Dieppe. 
In short, the stone is like lace. Flowers and figures of 
men and animals creep down the ribs, multiply at every 
step, and crown the vault with a pendant, in which the 
chisels of sixteenth century sculptors have outdone the art- 
less stone-carvers who, fifty years before, had made the 
pendants for two staircases in Louis XII.’s building. 
Though we may be dazzled as we note these varied forms 
repeated with infinite prolixity, we nevertheless perceive 
that Francis I. lacked money for Blois, just as Louis XIV, 
did for Versailles. In more than one instance a graceful 
head looks out from a block of stone almost in the rough. 
More than one fanciful boss is but sketched with a few 
strokes of the chisel, and then abandoned to the damp, 
which has overgrown it with green mold. On the fagade, 
_ by the side of one window carved like lace, another shows 

us the massive frame eaten into by time, which has carved 
it after a manner of its own. 

The least artistic, the least experienced eye finds here 
a delightful contrast between this front, rippling with 
marvels of design, and the inner front of Louis XII.’s 
chateau, consisting on the ground floor of arches of the 
airiest lightness, upheld by slender columns, resting on 
elegant balustrades, and two stories above with windows 
wrought with charming severity. Under the arches runs 
a gallery, of which the walls were painted in fresco ; the 
_ vaulting too must have been painted, for some traces are 
still visible of that magnificence, imitated from Italian 
architecture—a reminiscence of our Kings’ journeys thither 
when the Milanese belonged to them. 

Opposite the residence of Francis I. there was at that 
time the chapel of the Counts of Blois, its fagade almost 
harmonizing with the architecture of Louis XII.’s build- 


Catherine de’ Medici 87 


ing. No figure of speech can give an adequate idea of 
the solid dignity of these three masses of building. In 
spite of the varieties of style, a certain imposing royalty, 
showing the extent of its fear by the magnitude of its 
defenses, held the three buildings together, different as 
they were; two of them flanking the immense hall of the 
States-General, as vast and lofty as a church. 

And certainly neither the simplicity nor the solidity of 
those citizen lives which were described at the beginning 
of this narrative—lives in which Art was always repre- 
sented—was lacking to this royal residence. Blois was 
the fertile and brilliant example which found a living 
response from citizens and nobles, from money and rank, 
alike in towns and in the country. You could not have 
wished that the home of the King who ruled Paris as it 
was in the sixteenth century should be other than this. 
The splendid raiment of the upper classes, the luxury of * 
feminine attire, must have seemed singularly suited to the 
elaborate dress of these curiously wrought stones. 

From floor to floor, as he mounted the wonderful stairs 
of this castle of Blois, the King of France could see further 
and further over the beautiful Loire, which brought him 
news of all his realm, which it parts into two confronted and 
almost rival halves, If, instead of placing Chambord in 
a dead and gloomy plain two leagues away, Francis I. had 
built a Chambord to complete Blois on the site of the 
gardens, where Gaston subsequently erected his palace, 
Versailles would never have existed, and Blois would 
inevitably have become the capital of France. 

Four Valois and Catherine de’ Medici lavished their 
wealth on the Chateau of Blois, but any one can guess 
how prodigal the sovereigns were, only from seeing the 
thick dividing wall, the spinal column of the building, 
with deep alcoves cut into its substance, secret stairs and 
closets contrived within it, surrounding such vast rooms 
as the council hall, the guard-room, and the royal apart- 


88 Catherine de’ Medici 


ments, in which a company of infantry now finds ample 
quarters. Even if the visitor should fail to understand 
at a first glance that the marvels of the interior are worthy 
of those of the exterior, the remains of Catherine de’ 
Medici’s room—into which Christophe was presently ad- 
mitted—are sufficient evidence of the elegant art which 
peopled these rooms with lively fancies, with salamanders 
sparkling among flowers, with all the most brilliant hues 
of the palette of the sixteenth century decorating the 
darkest staircase. In that room the observer may atill 
see the traces of that love of gilding which Catherine had 
brought from Italy, for the princesses of her country loved 
(as the author above quoted delightfully expresses it) to 
overlay the chateaux of France with the gold gained in 
trade by their ancestors, and to stamp the walls of royal 
rooms with the sign of their wealth. 

The Queen-mother occupied the rooms on the first floor 
that had formerly been those of Queen Claude de France, 
Francis I.’s wife ; and the delicate sculpture is still to be 
seen of double C’s, with a device in pure white of swans 
and lilies, signifying Candidior candidis, the whitest of 
the white, the badge of that Queen whose name, like 
Catherine’s, began with C, and equally appropriate to 
Louis XII.’s daughter and to the mother of the Valois ; 
for notwithstanding the violence of Calvinist slander, no 
doubt was ever thrown on Catherine de’ Medici’s endur- 
ing fidelity to Henri II. 

The Queen-mother, with two young children still on 
her hands—a boy, afterwards the Duc d’Alengon, and Mar- 
guerite, who became the wife of Henri IV., and whom 
Charles IX. called Margot—needed the whole of this first 
floor. 

King Francis II. and his Queen Mary Stewart had the 
royal apartments on the second floor that Francis I. had 
occupied, and which were also those of Henri III. The 
royal apartments, and those of the Queen-mother, are 


~ 


Catherine de’ Medici ~ 89 


divided from end to end of the chateau into two parts by 
the famous party wall, four feet thick, which supports the 
thrust of the immensely thick walls of the rooms. Thus 
on the lower as well as on the upper floor the rooms are in 
two distinct suites. That half which, facing to the south, 
is lighted from the court, held the rooms for state re- 
ceptions and public business; while, to escape the heat, 
the private rooms had a north aspect, where there is # 
splendid frontage with arcades and balconies, and a view 
over the county of the Vendémois, the Perchoir auz 
Bretons, and the moats of the town—the only town men- 
tioned by the great fable writer, the admirable la Fontaine. 

Francis I.’s chateau at that time ended at an enormous 
tower, only begun, but intended to mark the vast angle 
the palace would have formed in turning a flank ; Gaston 
subsequently demolished part of its walls to attach his 
palace to the tower; but he never finished the work, and 
the tower remains aruin. This royal keep was used as a 
prison, or, according to popular tradition, as oubdliettes. 
What poet would not feel deep regret or weep for France 
as he wanders now through the hall of this magnificent 
chateau, and sees the exquisite arabesques of Catherine de’ 
Medici’s room, white-washed and almost smothered by 
order of the governor of the barracks at the time of the 
cholera—for this royal residence is now a barrack. 

The paneling of Catherine de’ Medici’s closet, of which 
more particular mention will presently be made, is the 
last relic of the rich furnishing collected by five artistic 
kings. 

As we make our way through this labyrinth of rooms, 
halls, staircases, and turrets, we can say with horrible 
certainty, ‘‘ Here Mary Stewart cajoled her husband in 
favor of the Guises, There those Guises insulted Cath- 
erine. Later, on this very spot, the younger Balafré fell 
under the swords of theavengers of theCrown. A century 
earlier Louis XII. signaled from that window to invite the 


90 Catherine de’ Medici 


advance of his friend the Cardinal d’Amboise. From this 
baleony, d’Kpernon, Ravaillac’s accomplice, welcomed 
Queen Marie de’ Medici, who, it is said, knew of the 
intended regicide and left things to take their course !” 

In the chapel where Henry IV. and Marguerite de 
Valois were betrothed—the last remnant of the old 
' chateau of the Counts of Blois—the regimental boots are 
made. ‘This wonderful structure, where so many styles 
are combined, where such great events have been accom- 
plished, is in a state of ruin which is a disgrace to France. 
How grievous it is to those who love the memorial build- 
ings of old France, to feel that ere long these eloquent 
stones will have gone the way of the house at the corner 
of the Rue de la Vieille-Pelleterie : they will survive, per- 
haps, only in these pages. 


It is necessary to observe that, in order to keep a keener 
eye on the Court, the Guises, though they had a mansion 
in the town, which is still to be seen, had obtained per- 

mission to reside above the rooms of Louis XII. in the 
apartments since used by the Duchesse de Nemours, in 
the upper story on the second floor. 

Francis II. and his young Queen, Mary Stewart, in love 
like two children of sixteen, as they were, had been sud- 
denly transferred, one cold winter’s day, from Saint-Ger- 
main, which the Duc de Guise thought too open to sur- 
prise, to the stronghold, as it then was, of Blois, isolated 
on three sides by precipitous slopes, while its gates were 
strictly guarded. The Guises, the Queen’s uncles, had 
the strongest reasons for not living in Paris, and for de- 
taining the Court in a place which could be easily guarded 
and defended. 

A struggle for the throne was being carried on, which 
was not ended till twenty-eight years later, in 1588, when, 
in this same chateau of Blois, Henri III., bitterly humil- 
iated by the House of Lorraine, under his mother’s very 


Catherine de’ Medici 91 


eyes, planned the death of the boldest of the Guises, the 
second Balafré (or scarred), son of the first Balafré, by 
whom Catherine de’ Medici was tricked, imprisoned, spied 
on, and threatened. 

Indeed, the fine Chateau of Blois was to Catherine the 
strictest prison. On the death of her husband, who had 
always kept her in leading-strings, she had hoped to rule ; 
but, on the contrary, she found herself aslave to strangers, 
whose politeness was infinitely more cruel than the brutality 
of jailers. She could do nothing that was not known. 
Those of her ladies who were attached to her either had 
lovers devoted to the Guises, or Argus eyes watching over 
them. Indeed, at that time the conflict of passions had 
the capricious vagaries which they always derive from the 
powerful antagonism of two hostile interests in the State. 
Love-making, which served Catherine well, was also an 
instrument in the hands of the Guises. Thus the Prince 
de Condé, the leader of the Reformed party, was attached 
to the Maréchale de Saint-André, whose husband was the 
Grand Master’s tool. ‘The Cardinal, who had learnt from 
the affair of the Vidame de Chartres that Catherine was 
unconquered rather than unconquerable, was paying court 
to her. Thus the play of passions brought strange com- 
plications into that of politics, making a double game of 
chess, as it were, in which it was necessary to read both 
the heart and brain of a man, and to judge, on oceasion, 
whether one would not belie the other. 

Though she lived constantly under the eye of the Car- 
dinal de Lorraine or of his brother, the Duc Francois de + 
Guise, who both distrusted her, Catherine’s most imme- 
diate and shrewdest enemy was her daughter-in-law, Queen 
Mary, a little fair girl as mischievous as a waiting-maid, 
as proud as a Stewart might be who wore three crowns, as 
learned as an ancient scholar, as tricky as a school-girl, as 
much in love with her husband as a courtesan of her lover, 
devoted to her uncles, whom she admired, and delighted to 


92 ~" Gather de Medial: 


find that King Francis, by her persuasion, shared her high 
opinion of them. A mother-in-law is always a person dis- 
liked by her daughter-in-law, especially when she has won 
the crown and would like to keep it—as Catherine had 
impradently too plainly shown. Her former position, 
when Diane de Poitiers ruled King Henri II., had been 
more endurable ; at least she had enjoyed the homage due 
to a Queen, and the respect of the Court ; whereas, now,the 
Duke and the Cardinal, having none about them but their 
own creatures, seemed to take pleasure in humiliating her. 
Catherine, a prisoner among courtiers, was the object, not 
every day, but every hour, of blows offensive to her dignity ; 
for the Guises persisted in carrying on the same system as 
the late King had employed to thwart her. 

The six-and-thirty years of disaster which devastated 

France may be said to have begun with the scene in which 
the most perilous part had been allotted to the son of the 
Queen’s furrier—a part which makes him the leading figure 
in this narrative. The danger into which this zealous re- 
former was falling became evident in the course of the 
morning when he set out from the river-port of Beaugency, 
carrying precious documents which compromised the 
loftiest heads of the nobility, and embarked for Blois in 
company with a crafty partisan, the indefatigable la Re 
naudie, who had arrived on the quay before him. 

While the barque conveying Christophe was being 
wafted down the Loire before a light easterly breeze, the 
famous Cardinal de Lorraine, and the second Duc de Guise, 
one of the greatest war captains of the time, were consider- 
ing their position, like two eagles on a rocky peak, and 
looking cautiously round bofore striking the first great 
blow by which they tried to kill the Reformation in France. 
This was to be struck at Amboise, and it was repeated in 
Paris twelve years later, on the 24th August, 1572. 

In the course of the previous night, three gentlemen, 
who played an important part in the twelve years’ drama 


‘Catherine de’ Medici 98 


that rose from this double plot laid by the Guises on one 
hand and the Reformers on the other, had arrived at the 
chateau at a furious gallop, leaving their horses half dead 
at the postern gate, held by captains and men who were 
wholly devoted to the Duc de Guise, the idol of the sol- 
diery. ; 

A word must be said as to this great man, and first of 
all a word to explain his present position. 

His mothor was Antoinette de Bourbon, great-aunt of 
Henri lV. But of what account are alliances! At this 
moment he aimed at nothing less than his cousin de Condé’s 
head. Mary Stewart was his niece. His wife was Anne, 
daughter of the Duke of Ferrara, The Grand Connétable 
Anne de Montmorency addressed the Duc de Guise as 
‘* Monseigneur,” as he wrote to the king, and signed him- 
self ‘‘Your very humble servant.” Guise, the Grand 
Master of the king’s household, wrote in reply, ‘‘ Monsieur 
le Connétable,” and signed, as in writing to the Parliament, 
‘¢'Your. faithful friend.” 

As for the Cardinal, nicknamed the Transalpine Pope, 
and spoken of by Estienne as ‘‘ His Holiness,” the whole 
Monastic Church of France was on his side, and he treated 
with the Pope as his equal. He was vain of his eloquence, 
and one of the ablest theologians of his time, while he 
kept watch over France and Italy by the instrumentality 
of three religious Orders entirely devoted to him, who 
were on foot for him day and night, serving him as spies 
and reporters. | 

These few words are enough to show to what a height 
of power the Cardinal and the Duke had risen. In spite 
of their wealti and the revenues of their offices, thoy 
were so entirely disinterested, or so much carried away by 
the tide of politics, and so generous too, that both were in 
debt—no doubt after the manner of Ceasar. Hence, when 
Henri III, had seen his threatening foe murdered, the 
second Balafré, the House of Guise was inevitably ruined, 


94. Catherine de’ Medici 


Their vast outlay for above a century, in hope of seizing 
the Crown, accounts for the decay of this great House 
under Louis XIII. and Louis XIV., when the sudden end 
of MADAME revealed to all Europe how low a Chevalier de 
Lorraine had fallen. 

So the Cardinal and the Duke, proclaiming themselves 
the heirs of the deposed Carlovingian kings, behaved very 
insolently to Catherine de’ Medici, their niece’s mother- 
in-law. The Duchesse de Guise spared Catherine no mor- 
tification ; she was an Este, and Catherine de’ Medici was 
the daughter of self-made Florentine merchants, whom 
the sovereigns of Europe had not yet admitted to their 
royal fraternity. Francis I. had regarded his son’s mar- 
riage with a Medici as a mésalliance, and had only allowed 
it in the belief that this son would never be the Dauphin. 
Hence his fury when the Dauphin died, poisoned by the 
Florentine Montecuculi. 

The Estes refused to recognize the Medici as Italian 
princes. These time-honored merchants were, in fact, 
struggling with the impossible problem of maintaining a 
throne in the midst of republican institutions. The title 
of Grand Duke was not bestowed on the Medici till much 
_ later by Philip II., King of Spain ; and they earned it by 
treason to France, their benefactress, and by a servile at- 
tachment to the Court of Spain, which was covertly thwart- 
ing them in Italy. 

«« Tlatter none but your enemies!” This great axiom, 
uttered by Catherine, would seem to have ruled all the 
policy of this merchant race, which never lacked great 
men till its destinies had grown great, and which broke 
down a little too soon under the degeneracy which is 
always the end of royal dynasties and great families. 

For three generations there was a prelate and a warrior 
of the House of Lorraine ; but, which is perhaps not less 
remarkable, the Churchman had always shown—as did 
the present Cardinal—a singular likeness to Cardinal 


v 


Catherine de’ Medici 96 


-Ximenes, whom the Cardinal de Richelieu also resembled. 
These five prelates all had faces that were at once mean 
and terrifying ; while the warrior’s face was of that Basque 
and mountain type which reappears in the features of 
Henri lV. In both the father and the son it was seamed 
by a scar, which did not destroy the grace and affability 
that bewitched their soldiers as much as their bravery. 

The way and the occasion of the Grand Master’s being 
wounded is not without interest here, for it was healed 
by the daring of one of the personages of this drama, 
Ambroise Paré, who was under obligation to the Syndic 
of the furriers. At the siege of Calais the Duke’s head 
was pierced by a lance which, entering below the right 
eye, went through to the neck below the left ear, the 
end broke off and remained in the wound. The Duke 
was lying in his tent in the midst of the general woe, 
and would have died but for the bold promptitude and 
devotion of Ambroise Paré. 

«The Duke is not dead, gentlemen,” said Paré, turning 
to the bystanders, who were dissolved in tears. ‘‘ But he 
soon will be,” he added, “‘ unless I treat him as if he were, 
and I will try it at the risk of the worst that can befall 
me. ... You see!” 

He set his left foot on the Duke’s breast, took the stump 
of the lance with his nails, loosened it by degrees, and at 
last drew the spear-head out of the wound, as if it had 
been from some senseless object instead of a man’s head. 
Though he cured the Prince he had handled so boldly, 
he could not hinder him from bearing to his grave the 
terrible scar from which he had his name. His son also 
had the same nickname for a similar reason. 

Having gained entire mastery over the King, who was 
ruled by his wife, as a result of the passionate and mutual 
affection which the Guises knew how to turn to account, 
the two great Princes of Lorraine reigned over France, 
and had not an enemy at Court but Catherine de’ Medici, 


96 ‘ Gatherine de’ Medici 


And no great politician ever played a closer game. The 
respective attitudes of Henri II.’s ambitious widow, and of 
the no less ambitious House of Lorraine, was symbolized, 
as it were, by the positions they held on the terrace of the 
chateau on the very morning when Christophe was about 
to arrive there. The Queen-mother, feigning extreme 
affection for the Guises, had asked to be informed as to 
the news brought by the three gentlemen who had arrived 
from different parts of the kingdom ; but she had been 
mortified by a polite dismissal from the Cardinal. She 
was walking at the further end of the pleasaunce above 
the Loire, where she was having an observatory erected 
for her astrologer, Ruggieri ; the building may still be 
* geen, and from it a wide view is to be had over the beauti- © 
ful valley. The two Guises were on the opposite side over- 
looking the Vendémois, the upper part of the town, the 
Perchoir aux Bretons, and the postern gate of the chateau. 

Catherine had deceived the brothers, tricking them by 
an assumption of dissatisfaction ; for she was really very 
glad to be able to speak with one of the gentlemen who 
had come in hot haste, und who was in her secret con- 
fidence ; who boldly played a double game, but who was, 
to be sure, well paid for it. This gentleman was Chiverni, 
who affected to be the mere tool of the Cardinal de Lor- 
raine, but who was in reality in Catherine’s service. 
Catherine had two other devoted allies in the two Gondis, 
creatures of her own ; but they, as Florentines, were too 
open to the suspicions of the Guises to be sent into the 
country ; she kept them at the Court, where their every 
word and action was closely watched, but where they, on 
their side, watched the Guises and reported to Catherine. 
These two Italians kept a third adherent to the Queen- 
mother’s faction, Birague, a clever Piedmontese, who, like 

Chiverni, pretended to have abandoned Catherine to attach 
_ himself to the Guises, and who encouraged them in their 
undertakings while spying for Catherine, 


. Catherine de’ Medici © 97 
Chiverni had arrived from Ecouen and Paris. The 
last to ride in was Saint-André, Marshal-of France, who 


rose to be such an important personage that the Guises 
adopted him as the third of the triumvirate they formed 


against Catherine in the following year. But earlier than. 


either of these, Vieilleville, the builder of the Chateau 
of Duretal, who had also by his devotion to the Guises 
earned the rank of Marshal, had secretly come and more 


secretly gone, without any one knowing what the mission - 


might be that the Grand Master had given him. Saint- 
André, it was known, had been instructed to take mili- 
tary measures to entice all the reformers who were under 
arms to Amboise, as the result of a Council held by the 
Cardinal de Lorraine, the Duc de Guise, Birague, Chi- 
yerni, Vieilleville, and Saint-André. As the heads of 


the House of Lorraine thus employed Birague, it is to 


be supposed that they trusted to their strength, for they 
knew that he was attached to the Queen-mother ; but it 
is possible that they kept him about them with a view 
to discovering their rival’s secret designs, as she allowed 
him to attend them. In those strange times the double 
part played by some political intriguers was known to both 
the parties who employed them; they were like cards in 
the hands of players, and the craftiest won the game. 

All through this sitting the brothers had been impene- 
trably guarded. Oatherine’s conversation with her friends 
will, however, fully explain the purpose of this meeting, 
convened by the Guises in the open air, at break of day, 
in the terraced garden, as though every one feared to 
speak within the walls full of ears of the Chateau of Blois. 

The Queen-mother, who had been walking about all 
the morning with the two Gondis, under pretence of ex- 
amining the observatory that was being built, but, in fact, 
anxiously watching the hostile party, was presently joined 
by Chiverni. She was standing at the angle of the terrace 
opposite the Churoh of Saint-Nicholas, and there feared 


98 Catherine de’ Medici 


no listeners. The wall is as high as the church-towers, 
and the Guises always held council at the other corner of 
the terrace, below the dungeon then begun, walking to 
and from the Perchoir des Bretons and the arcade by the 
bridge which joined the gardens to the Perchoir. There 
was nobody at the bottom of the ravine. 

Chiverni took the Queen’s hand to kiss it, and slipped 
into her fingers a tiny letter without being seen by the 
Italians. Catherine quickly turned away, walked to the 
corner of the parapet, and read as follows :— 


«* You are powerful enough to keep the balance true 
_ between the great ones, and to make them contend as to 
which shall serve you best ; you have your house full of 
kings, and need not fear either Lorrains or Bourbons so 
long as you set them against each other; for both sides 
aim at snatching the crown from your children. Be your 
advisers’ mistress, and not their slave ; keep up each side 
by the other; otherwise the kingdom will go from bad to 
worse, and great wars may ensue. L’H6pmrat. 


The Queen placed this letter in the bosom of her 
stomacher, reminding herself to burn it as soon as she 
should be alone. 

‘¢ When did you see him ?” she asked Chiverni. 

‘‘On returning from seeing the Connétable at Melun ; 
he was going through with the Duchesse de Berri, whom 
he was most anxious to convey in safety to Savoy, so as to 
return here and enlighten the Chancellor Olivier, who is, 
in fact, the dupe of the Lorrains. Monsieur de |’Hopital 
is resolyed to adhere to your cause, seeing the aims that 
Messieurs de Guise have in view. And he will hasten back 
as fast as possible to give you his vote in the Council.” 

‘*Is he sincere ?” said Catherine. ‘‘ For you know that 
when the Lorrains admitted him to the Council, it was to 
enable them to rule.” 


Catherine de’ Medici 99 


“L’Ho6pital is a 'renchman of too good a stock not to 
be honest,” said Chiverni ; “ besides, that letter is a suffi- 
cient pledge.” 

‘* And what answer does the Connétable send to these 
gentlemen ? ” 

‘‘He says the King is his master, and he awaits his 
orders. On this reply, the Cardinal, to prevent any 
resistance, wil! propose to appoint his brother Lieutenant- 
General of the realm.” 

**So soon!” cried Catherine in dismay. ‘‘ Well, and 
did Monsieur de l’Hépital give you any further message 
for me?” 

“He told me, Madame, that you alone can stand be- 
tween the throne and Messieurs de Guise.” 

«* But does he suppose that I will use the Huguenots as 
a means of defense.” 

«© Oh, Madame,” cried Chiverni, surprised by her per- 
spicacity, ‘‘we never thought of placing you in such a 
difficult position.” 

‘©Did he know what.a position I am in?” asked the 
Queen calmly. 

<‘ Pretty nearly. He thinks you made a dupe’s bargain 
when, on the death of the late King, you accepted for 
your share the fragments saved from the ruin of Madame 
Diane. Messieurs de Guise thought they had paid their 
debt to the Queen by gratifying the woman. 

*« Yes,” said Catharine, looking at the two Gondis, ‘I 
made a great mistake there.” 

«‘A mistake the gods might make !” replied Charles de 
Gondi. 

** Gentlemen,” said the Queen, ‘‘if I openly take up the 
cause of the Reformers I shall be the slave of a party,” 

“‘Madame,” said Chiverni eagerly, “I entirely agree 
with you. You must make use of them, but not let them 
make use of you.” 

‘* Although, for the moment, your strength lies there,” 


100 Catherine de’ Medici 


said Charles de Gondi, “‘ we must not deceive ourselves ; 
success and failure are equally dangerous !” 

- “T know it,” said the Queen. ‘‘ One false move will be 
a pretext eagerly seized by the Guises to sweep me off the 
board !” 

A Pope’s niece, the mother of four Valois, the Queen 
of France, the widow of the most ardent persecutor of the 
Huguenots, an Italian and a Catholic, the aunt of Leo X., 
—can you form an alliance with the Reformation ?” asked 
Charles de Gondi. 

*€ On the other hand,” Albert replied, ‘“‘is not second- — 
ing the Guises consenting to usurpation? You have to 
deal with a race that looks to the struggle between the 
Church and the Reformation to give them a crown for the 
taking. You may avail yourself of Huguenot help with- 
out abjuring the Faith.” 

«« Remember, Madame, that your family, which ought to 
be wholly devoted to the King of France, is at this mo- 
ment inthe service of the King of Spain,” said Chiverni. 
«« And it would go over to the Reformation to-morrow if 
the Reformation could make the Duke of Florence king ! ” 

«‘T am very well inclined to give the Huguenots a help- 
ing hand for a time,” said Catherine, ‘‘ were it only to be 
revenged on that soldier, that priest, and that woman !” 

And with an Italian glance, her eye turned on the Duke 
and the Cardinal, and then to the upper rooms of the 
chateau where her son lived and Mary Stewart. ‘* Those 
three snatched the reins of government from my hands,” 
she went on, ‘when I had waited for them Jong enough 
while that old woman held them in my place.” 

She jerked her head in the direction of Chenonceaux, 
the chateau she had just exchanged for Chaumont with 
Diane de Poitiers. ‘‘Ma,” she said in Italian, “ it would 
seem that these gentry of the Geneva bands have not wit 
enough to apply to me!—On my honor, I cannot go to 
meet them! And not one of you would dare to carry them 


Catherine de’ Medici 101 


a message.” She stamped her foot. ‘I hoped you might 
have met the hunchback at Ecouen,” she said to Chiverni. 
** He has brains.” 

. He was there, Madame,” replied Chiverni, ‘‘ but he 
could not induce the Connétable to join him. Monsieur 
de Montmorency would be glad enough to overthrow the 
Guises, who obtained his dismissal ; but he will have noth- 
ing to do with heresy.” 

** And who, gentlemen, is to crush these private whims 
that are an offense to Royalty ? By Heaven ! these nobles 
must be made to destroy each other—as Louis XI. made ~ 
them, the greatest of your kings. In this kingdom there 
are four or five parties, and my son’s is the weakest of 
them all.” ' 

‘*¢The Reformation is an idea,” remarked Charles de 
Gondi, ‘‘and the parties crushed by Louis the Eleventh 
were based only on interest.” 

‘* There is always an idea to back up interest,” replied 
Chiverni. ‘‘In Louis XI.’s time the idea was called the 
Great Fief! ” 

‘*Use heresy as an ax,” said Albert de Gondi. ‘“‘ You 
will not incur the odium of executions.” 

‘‘Ha!” said the Queen, ‘but I know nothing of the 
strength or the schemes of these folks, and I cannot com- 
municate with them through any safe channel. If I were 
found out in any such conspiracy, either by the Queen, 
who watches me as if I were an infant in arms, or by my 
two jailers, who let no one come into the chateau, I 
should be banished from the country, and taken back to 
Florence under a formidable escort captained by some 
ruffianly Guisard! Thank you, friends!—Oh, daughter- 
in-law ! I hope you may some day be aprisoner in your own 
house; then you will know what you have inflicted on me!” 

*‘ Their schemes!” exclaimed Chiverni. ‘ The Grand 
Master and the Cardinal know them ; but those two foxes 
will not tell. If you, Madame, can make them tell, I will 


102 Catherine de’ Medici 


devote myself to you, and come to an understanding with 
the Prince de Condé.” 

*‘ Which of their plans have they failed to conceal 
from you ?” asked the Queen, glancing towards the broth- 
ers de Guise, 

‘Monsieur de Vieilleville and Monsieur de Saint-André 
have just had their orders, of which we know nothing ; 
but the Grand Master is concentrating his best troops on 


- the left bank, it would seem. Within a few days you will 


find yourself at Amboise. The Grand Master came to this 
terrace to study the position, and he does not think Blois 


_ favorable to his private schemes. Well, then, what does 


he want ?” said Chiverni, indicating the steep cliffs that 
surround the chateau. ‘The Court could nowhere be 
safer from sudden attack than it is here.” 

«* Abdicate or govern,” said Albert de Gondi in the 
Queen’s ear as she stood thinking. 

A fearful expression of suppressed rage flashed across 
the Queen’s handsome ivory-pale face.—She was not yet 
forty, and she had lived for twenty-six years in the French 
Court, absolutely powerless, she, who ever since she had 
come there had longed to play the leading part. 

«‘ Neyer so long as this son lives! His wife has be- 
witched him !” 

After a short pause these terrible words broke from her 
in the language of Dante. 

Catherine’s exclamation had its inspiration in a strange 
prediction, spoken a few days before at the Chateau of 
Chaumont, on the opposite bank of the Loire, whither 
she had gone with her astrologer Ruggieri to consult a 
famous soothsayer. This woman was brought to meet her 
by Nostradamus, the chief of those physicians who in that 
great sixteenth century believed in the occult sciences, 
with Ruggieri, Cardan, Paracelsus, and many more. This 
fortune-teller, of whose life history has no record, had 
fixed the reign of Francis II. at one year’s duration, 


Catherine de’ Medici 103 


‘¢ And what is your opinion of all this?” Catherine 
asked Chiverni. 

“« There will be fighting,” said the cautious gentleman. 
‘«« The King of Navarre——” 

*‘Oh! say the Queen!” Catherine put in. 

“Very true, the Queen,” said Chiverni, smiling, ‘‘ has 
made the Prince de Condé the chief of the reformed party ; 
he, as a younger son, may dare much; and Monsieur le 
Cardinal talks of sending for him to come here.” 

‘« Tf only he comes!” cried the Queen, ‘‘I am saved!” 

So it will be seen that the leaders of the great Reforming 
movement had been right in thinking of Catherine as an 
ally. 

‘‘This is the jest of it,” said the Queen; “‘ the Bour- 
bons are tricking the Huguenots, and Master Calvin, de 
Béze, and the rest are cheating the Bourbons; but shall 
we be strong enough to take in the Huguenots, the Bour- 
bons, and the Guises ? In front of three such foes we are 
justified in feeling our pulse,” said she. 

«¢ They have not the King,” replied Albert. ‘‘ You must 
always win, having the King on yonr side.” 

‘‘ Maladetta Maria!” said Catherine, between her 
teeth. 

‘The Guises are already thinking of diverting the 
affections of the middle class,” said Birague. 


The hope of snatching the Crown had not been pre- 
meditated by the two heads of the refractory House of 
Guise ; there was nothing to justify the project or the 
hope ; circumstances suggested such audacity. The two 
Cardinals and the two Balafrés were, as it happened, four 
ambitious men, superior in political gifts to any of the 
men about them. Indeed, the family was only subdued 
at last by Henri IV., himself a leader of faction, brought 
up in the great school of which Catherine and the Gnises 
were the teachers—and he had profited by their lessons. 


104 Catherine de’ Medici 


At this time these two brothers were the arbiters of 
the greatest revolution attempted in Europe since that 
carried through in England under Henry VIII., which had 
resulted from the invention of printing. They were the 
enemies of the Reformation, the power was in their hands, 
and they meant to stamp out heresy; but Calvin, their 
opponent, though less famous than Luther, was a stronger 
man. Calvin saw Government where Luther had only seen 
Dogma, Where the burly, beer-drinking, uxorious Ger- 
man fought with the Devil, flinging his inkstand at the 
fiend, the man of Picardy, frail and unmarried, dreamed of 
plans of campaign, of directing battles, of arming princes, 
and of raising whole nations by disseminating republican 
doctrines in the hearts of the middle classes, so as to make 
up, by increased progress in the Spirit of Nations, for his 
constant defeats on the battle-field. 

The Cardinal de Lorraine and the Duc de Guise knew 
quite as well as Philip II. and the Duke of Alva where the 
Monarchy was aimed at, and how close the connection was 
between Catholicism and sovereignty. Charles V., in- 
toxicated with having drank too deeply of Charlemagne’s 
cup, and trusting too much in the strength of his rule, 
for he believed that he and Soliman might divide the world 
between them, was not at first conscious that his front was 
attacked ; as soon as Cardinal Granvelle showed him the 
extent of the festering sore, he abdicated. 

The Guises had a startling conception : they would ex- 
tinguish heresy with a single blow. They tried to strike 
that blow for the first time at Amboise, and they made a 
second attempt on Saint-Bartholomew’s Day; this time 
they were in accord with Catherine de’ Medici, enlightened 
as she was by the flames of twelve years’ wars, and yet 
more by the ominous word ‘‘ Republic” spoken and even 
published at a later date by the writers of the Reformation, 
whose ideas Lecamus, the typical citizen of Paris, had al- 
ready understood. ~ The two Princes, on the eve of striking 


Ae (ticle de’ Medici . $105 


fp fatal hae to the heart of the nobility, in order to cut it 
off from the first from a religious party whose triumph 
would be its ruin, were now discussing the means of an- 
nouncing their Coup @ Etat to the King, while Catherine 
was conversing with her four counselors. 

‘Jeanne d’Albret knew what she was doing when she 
proclaimed herself the protectress of the Huguenots! 
She has in the Reformation a battering-ram which she 
makes good play with !” said the Grand Master, who had 
measured the depth of the Queen of Navarre’s scheming. 

Jeanne d’Albret was, in point of fact, one of the cleverest 
personages of her time. , 

“‘ Théodore de Béze is at. Nérac, having taken Calvin’s 
orders.” 

«What men those common folk can lay their hands 
on !” cried the Duke. ; 

** Ay, we have not a man on our side to match that 
fellow la Renaudie,” said the Cardinal. ‘‘ He is a perfect 
Catiline.” 

** Men like him always act on their own account,” re- 
plied the Duke. <‘‘ Did not I see la Renaudie’s value? I 
loaded him with favors, I helped him to get away when 
he was condemned by the Bourgogne Parlement, I got 
him back into France by obtaining a revision of his trial, 
and I intended to do all I could for him, while he was 
plotting a diabolical conspiracy against us. The rascal 
has effected an alliance between the German Protestants 
and the heretics in France by smoothing over the dis- 
crepancies of dogma between Luther and Calvin: He 
has won over the disaffected nobles to the cause of the 
Reformation without asking them to abjure Catholicism. 
So long ago as last year he had thirty commanders on his 
side! He was everywhere at once: at Lyons, in Lan- 
guedoc, at Nantes. Finally, he drew up the Articles 
settled in Council and distributed throughout Germany, 
in which theologians declare that it is justifiable to use 


106 . Catherine de’ Medici 


force to get the King out of our hands, and this is being 
disseminated in every town. Look for him where you 
will, you will nowhere find him ! 

*« Hitherto I have shown him nothing but kindness! 
We shall have to kill him like a dog, or to make a bridge 
of gold for him to cross and come into our house.” 

_“ Brittany and Languedoc, the whole kingdom indeed, 
is being worked upon to give us a deadly shock,” said the 
Cardinal. ‘‘ After yesterday’s festival, I spent the rest 
of the night in reading all the information sent me by my 
priesthood ; but no one is involved but some impoverished 
gentlemen and artisans, people who may be either hanged 
or left alive, it matters not which. The Colignys and the 
Condés are not yet visible, though they hold the threads 
of the conspiracy.” 

«‘ Ay,” said the Duke; ‘‘and as soon as that lawyer 
Avenelles had let the cat out of the bag, I told Brague- 
lonne to give the conspirators their head: they have no 
suspicions, they think they can surprise us, and then per- 
haps the leaders will show themselves. My advice would 
be that we should allow ourselves to be beaten for forty- 
eight hours——” 

“«That would be half-an-hour too long,” said the Oardi- 
nal in alarm. 

‘« How brave you are!” retorted le Balafré. 

The Cardinal went on with calm indifference— 

‘* Whether the Prince de Condé be implicated or no, if 
we are assured that he is the leader, cut off his head. 
What we want for that business is judges rather than sol- 
dies, and there will never be any lack of judges! Victory 
in the Supreme Court is always more certain than on the 
field of battle, and costs less.” 

“‘T am quite willing,” replied the Duke. ‘‘ But do you 
believe that the Prince de Condé is powerful enough to 
inspire such audacity in those who are sent on first to 
attack us? Is there not oe 





Catherine de’ Medici 107 


«‘The King of Navarre,” said the Cardinal. 

«« A gaby who bows low in my presence,” replied the 
Duke. ‘That Florentine woman’s graces have blinded 
you I think——” 

**Oh, I have thought of that already,” said the prelate. 
‘«Tf I aim at a gallant intimacy with her, is it not that I 
may read to the bottom of her heart ?” 

‘She has no heart,” said his broplive sharply. “« She is 
even more ambitious than we are.’ : 

“* You are a brave commander,” said the Cardinal; 
“but take my word for it, our skirts are very near touch- 
ing, and i made Mary Stewart watch her narrowly before 
you ever suspected her. Catherine has no more religion 
in herthan my shoe. If she is not the soul of the conspir- 
acy, it is not for lack of goodwill; but we will draw her 
out and see how far she will support us. Till now I know 
for certain that she has not held any communication with 
the heretics.” 

“Tt is time that we should lay everything before the 
King, and the Queen-mother, who knows nothing,” said 
the Duke, “‘and that is the only proof of her innocence. 
La Renaudie will understand from my arrangements that 
we are warned, Last night Nemours must have been fol- 
lowing up the detachments of the Reformed party, who 
were coming in by the cross-roads, and the conspirators 
will be compelled to attack us at Amboise ; I will let them 
all in.—Here,” and he pointed to the three steep slopes 
of rock on which the Chateau de Blois is built, just as 
Chiverni had done a moment since, ‘‘ we should have a 
fight with no result ; the Huguenots could come and go 
at will. Blois is a hall with four doors, while Amboise is 
a sack.” 

“‘T will not leave the Florentine Queen,” said the 
Cardinal. 

“‘We have made one mistake,” remarked the Duke, 
playing with his dagger, tossing it in the air, and catch- 


108 Catherine de’ Medici 


ing it again by the handle; ‘‘we ought to have behaved 
to her ag to the Reformers, giving her liberty to move, so 
as to take her in the act.” 

The Cardinal looked at his brother for a minute, shak- 
ing his head. 

** What does Pardaillan want?” the Duke exclaimed, 
seeing this young gentleman coming along the terrace. 
Pardaillan was to become famous for his fight with la 
Renaudie, in which both were killed. 

** Monseigneur, a youth sent here by the Queen’s furrier 
is at the gate, and says that he has a set of ermine to de- 
liver to Her Majesty. Is he to be admitted ?” 

**'To be sure; an ermine surcoat she spoke of but yester- 
day,” said the Cardinal. ‘‘ Let the shop-clerk in. She 
will need the mantle for her journey by the Loire.” 

‘Which way did he come, that he was not stopped 
before reaching the gate ?” asked the Grand Master. 

**T do not know,” said Pardaillan. 

**T will go to see him in the Queen’s rooms,” said le 
Balafré. <* Tell him to await her Jever in the guard-room. 
But, Pardaillan, is he young ?” 

«© Yes, Monseigneur ; he says he is Lecamus’ son.” 

** Lecamus is a good Catholic,” said the Cardinal, who, 
like the Duke, was gifted with a memory like Cesar’s. 
‘The priest of Saint-Pierre aux Booufs trusts him, for he 
is officer of the peace for the Palace.” 

** Make this youth chat with the Captain of the Scotch 
Guard, all the same,” said the Grand Master, with an em- 
phasis which gave the words a very pointed meaning. 
*‘ But Ambroise is at the chdteau ; through him we shall 
know at once if he really is the son of Lecamus, who was 
formerly his yery good friend. Ask for Ambroise Paré.” 

At this moment the Queen came towards the brothers, 
who hurried to meet her with marks of respect, in which 
Catherine never failed to discern deep irony. 

«* Gentlemen,” said she, ‘‘ will you condescend to inform, 


N 


Catherine de’ Medici 109 


me of what is going on? Is the widow of your late sov- 
ereign of less account in your esteem than Messieurs de 
Vieilleville, Birague, and Chiverni ?” : 

‘«Madame,” said the Cardinal, with an air of gallantry, 
‘‘our first duty as men, before all matters of politics, is 
not to alarm ladies by false rumors. This morning, in- 
deed, we have had occasion to confer on State affairs. 
You will pardon my brother for having in the first instance | 
given orders on purely military matters which must be in-. 
different to you—the really important points remain to be 
discussed. If you approve, we will all attend the lever of 
the King and Queen; it is close on the hour.” 

** Why, what is happening, Monsieur le Grand Maitre?” 
asked Catherine, affecting terror. 

‘The Reformation, Madame, is no longer a mere heresy ; 
it isa party which is about to take up arms and seize the 

King.” 
~ Catherine, with the Cardinal, the Duke, and the gentle- 
men, made their way towards the staircase by the corridor, 
which was crowded with courtiers who had not the right 
of entrée, and who ranged themselves against the wall. 

Gondi, who had been studying the Princes of Lorraine 
while Catherine was conversing with them, said in good 
Tuscan and in Catherine’s ear these two words, which be- 
came bywords, and which express one aspect of that royally 
powerful nature— 

** Odiate e aspettate!” Hate and wait. 

Pardaillan, who had delivered to the officer on guard at 
the gatehouse the order to admit the messenger from the 
Queen’s furrier, found Christophe standing outside the 
portico and staring at the facade built by good King Louis 
XII, whereon there was at that time an even more numer- 
ous array of sculptured figures of the coarsest buffoonery 
‘—if we may judge by what has survived. The curious 
will detect, for instance, a figure of a woman carved on 
the capital of one of the columns of the gateway holding 


110 - Catherine de’ Medici : s 


up her skirts, and saucily exhibiting ‘‘ what Brunel dis- 
played to Marphisa” to a burly monk crouching in the 
capital of the corresponding column at the other jamb of 
this gate, above which once stood a statue of Louis XIL 
Several of the windows of this front, ornamented in this 
grotesque taste, and now unfortunately destroyed, amused, 
or seemed to amuse, Christophe, whom the gunners of the 
Guard were already pelting with their pleasantries. 

“* He would like to be lodged there, he would,” said the 
sergeant-at-arms, patting his store of charges for his musket 
which hung from his belt in the sugar-loaf-shaped cart- 
ridges. 

“‘Hallo, you from Paris, you never saw so much be- 
fore!” said a soldier. 

“* He recognizes good King Louis !” said another. 

Christophe affected not to hear them, and tried to look 
even more helplessly amazed, so that his look of blank 
stupidity was an excellent recommendation to Pardaillan. 

‘The Queen is not yet risen,” said the young officer. 
“‘Comeand wait in the guardroom.” 

Christophe slowly followed Pardaillan. He purposely 
lingered to admire the pretty covered balcony with an 
arched front, where, in the reign of Louis XII., the 
courtiers could wait under cover till the hour of recep- 
tion if the weather was bad, and where at this moment 
some of the gentlemen attached to the Guises were 
grouped ; for the staircase, still so well preserved, which 
led to their apartments is at the end of that gallery, ina 
tower of which the architecture is greatly admired by the 
curious. 

** Now, then! have you come here to study graven 
images ?” cried Pardaillan, seeing Lecamus riveted in 
front of the elegant stonework of the outer parapet which 
unites—or, if you will, separates—the columns of each 
archway. 

Christophe followed the young captain to the grand 


Catherine de’ Medici 7 fil 


staircase, not without glancing at this almost Moorish-look- 
ing structure from top to bottom with an expression of 
ecstasy. On this fine morning the court was full of cap- 
tains-at-arms and of courtiers chatting in groups; and 
their brilliant costumes gave life to the scene, in itself so 
bright, for the marvels of architecture that decorated the 
fagade were still quite new. 

“©Come in here,” said Pardaillan to Lecamus, signing 
to him to follow him through the carved door on the 
second floor, which was thrown open by a sentry on his 
recognizing Pardaillan. 

Christophe’s amazement may easily be imagined on en- 
tering this guardroom, so vast, that the military genius of 
our day has cut it across by a partition to form two rooms. 
It extends, in fact, both on the second floor, where the King 
lived, and on the first, occupied by the Queen-mother, for 
a third of the length of the front towards the court, and 
is lighted by two windows to the left and two to the right of 
the famous staircase. The young captain made his way 
toward the door leading to the King’s room, which opened 
out of this hall, and desired one of the pages-in-waiting to 
tell Madame Dayelle, one of the Queen’s ladies, that the 
furrier was in the guardroom with her surcoats. 

At a sign from Pardaillan, Christophe went to stand 
by the side of an officer seated on a low stool in the corner 
of a chimney-place as large as his father’s shop, at one end 
of this vast hall opposite another exactly like it at the 
other end. In talking with this gentleman, Christophe 
sueceeded in interesting him by telling him the trivial 
details of his trade; and he seemed so completely the 
craftsman, that the officer volunteered this opinion to the 
captain of the Scotch Guard, who came in to cross-ques- 
tion the lad while scrutinizing him closely out of the 
corner of his eye. 

Though Christophe Lecamus had had ample warning, he 
still did not understand the cold ferocity of the interested 


112 PGathesins de’ Medici 


parties between whom Chandieu had bid him stand. To 
an observer who should have mastered the secrets of the 
drama, as the historian knows them now, it would have 
seemed terrible to see this young fellow, the hope of two 
families, risking his life between two such powerful and 
pitiless machines as Catherine and the Guises. But how few 
brave hearts ever know the extent of theirdanger! From 
the way in which the quays of the city and the chateau 
were guarded, Christophe had expected to find snares and 
spies at every step, so he determined to conceal the im- 
portance of his errand and the agitation of his mind under 
the stupid-tradesman’s stare, which he had put on before 
Pardaillan, the officer of the Guard, and the captain. 

The stir which in a royal residence attends the rising of 
the King began to be perceptible. The nobles, leaying 
their horses with their pages or grooms in the outer court, 
for no one but the King and Queen was allowed to enter the 
inner court on horseback, were mounting the splendid 
stairs in twos and threes and filling the guardroom, 
a large room with two fireplaces—where the huge man- 
tels are now bereft of adornment, where squalid red tiles 
have taken the place of the fine mosaic flooring, where 
royal hangings covered the rough walls now daubed with 
whitewash, and where every art of an age unique in its 
splendor was displayed at its best. 

Catholics and Protestants poured in as much to hear 
the news and study each other’s faces as to pay their court 
to the King. His passionate affection for Mary Stewart, 
which neither the Queen-mother nor the Guises attempted 
to check, and Mary’s politic submissiveness in yield- 
ing to it, deprived the King of all power; indeed, though 
he was now seventeen, he knew nothing of Royalty but its 
indulgences, and of marriage nothing but the raptures of 
first love. In point of fact, everybody tried to ingratiate 
himself with Queen Mary and her uncles, the Cardinal de 
Lorraine and the Grand Master of the Household. 


Catherine de’ Medici 118 


All this bustle went on under the eyes of Christophe, 
who watched each fresh arrival with very natural excite- 
ment. A magnificent curtain, on each side of it a page 
and a yeoman of the Scotch Guard then on duty, showed 
him the entrance to that royal chamber, destined to be 
. fatal to the son of the Grand Master, for the younger 
-Balafré fell dead at the foot of the bed now occupied by 
Mary Stewart and Francis II. The Queen’s ladies oceupied 
the chimney-place opposite to that where Christophe was 
still chatting with the captain of the Guard. This fire- 
place, by its position, was the seat of honor, for it is built 
into the thick wall of the council-room, between the door 
into the royal chamber and that into the council-room, so 
that the ladies and gentlemen who had a right to sit there 
were close to where the King and the Queens must pass. 
The courtiers were certain to see Catherine; for her 
maids of honor, in mourning, like the rest of the Court, 
came up from her rooms conducted by the Countess 
Fieschi, and took their place on the side next the council- 
room, facing those of the young Queen, who, led by the 
Duchesse de Guise, took the opposite angle next the royal 
bedchamber. 

‘Between the courtiers and these young ladies, all 
belonging to the first families in the kingdom, a space was 
kept of some few paces, which none but the greatest nobles 
were permitted to cross. The Countess Fieschi and the 
Duchesse de Guise were allowed by right of office to be 
seated in the midst of their noble charges, who all re- 
mained standing. 

One of the first to mingle with these dangerous bevies 
was the Duc d’Orléans, the King’s brother, who came 
down from his rooms above, attended by his tutor, | 
Monsieur de Cypierre. This young Prince, who was 
destined to reign before the end of the year, under 
the name of Charles IX., at the age of ten was excess- 

nee: The Due d’Anjou and the Due d’Alengon, his 


114 Catherine de’ Medici 


two brothers and the infant Princess Marguerite, who be- 
came the wife of Henri IV., were still too young to appear 
.at Court, and remained in their mother’s apartments. 
The Duc d’Orléans, richly dressed in the fashion of the 
time, in silk trunk hose, a doublet of cloth of gold, brocaded 
with flowers in black, and a shortcloak of embroidered 
velvet, all black, for he was still in mourning for the late 
King his father, bowed to the two elder ladies, and joined 
the group of his mother’s maids of honor. Strongly dis- 
liking the Guisards (the adherents of the Guises), he re- 
plied coldly to the Duchess’s greeting, and went to lean 
his elbow on the back of the Countess Fieschi’s tall 
chair. 

His tutor, Monsieur de Cypierre, one of the finest char- 
acters of that age, stood behind him asa shield. Amyot, 
in a simple abbé’s gown, also attended the Prince ; he 
was his instructor as well as being the teacher of the three 
other royal children, whose favor was afterwards so advan- 
tageous to him. 

Between this chimney-place ‘‘of honor” and that at 
the further end of the hall—where the Guards stood in 
groups with their captain, a few courtiers, and Christophe 
carrying his box—the Chancellor Olivier, l’Hépital’s patron 
and predecessor, in the costume worn ever since by the 
Chancellors of France, was walking to and fro with Car- 
dinal de Tournon, who had just arrived from Rome, and 
with whom he exchanged a few phrases in murmurs. On 
them was centered the general attention of the gentlemen 
packed against the wall dividing the hall from the King’s 
bedroom, standing like a living tapestry against the rich 
figured hangings. In spite of the serious state of affairs, 
the Court presented the same appearance as every Court 
must, in every country, at every time, and in the midst 
of the greatest perils. Courtiers always talk of the most 
trivial subjects while thinking of the gravest, jesting while 
watching every physiognomy, and considering questions 


Catherine de’ Medici 115 


of love and marriage with heiresses in the midst of the most 
sanguinary catastrophes. 

““What did you think of Jeakek day’ s féte?” asked 
Bourdeilles, the Lord of Brantéme, going up to Mademoi- 
selle de Piennes, one of the elder Queen’s maids of honor. 

** Monsieur du Baif and Monsieur du Bellay had had 
the most charming ideas,” said she, pointing to the two 
gentlemen who had arranged everything, and who were 
standing close at hand. ‘I thought it in atrocious taste,” 
she added in a whisper. ° 

«¢ You had no part in it ?” said Miss Lewiston from the 
other side. 

‘*What are you reading, Madame ? ” said Amyot to 
Madame Fieschi. 

“‘ Amadis de Gaule, by the Seigneur des Essarts, pur- 
veyor-in-ordinary to the King’s Artillery.” 

‘© A delightful work,” said the handsome girl, who be- 
came famous as la Fosseuse, when she was lady-in-waiting 
to Queen Margaret of Navarre. 

«The style is quite new,” remarked Amyot. ‘Shall 
you adopt such barbarisms ?” he asked, turning to Bran- 
téme. 

«The ladies like it! What is to be said ?” cried Bran- 
tome, going forward to bow to Madame de Guise, who had 
in her hand Boccaccio’s Famous Ladies. ‘* There must 
be some ladies of your House there, Madame,” said he. 
«* But Master Boccaccio’s mistake was that he did not live 
in these days; he would have found ample matter to en- 
large his volumes.” 

‘*How clever Monsieur de Brantéme is!” said the 
beautiful Mademoiselle de Limeuil to the Countess Fieschi. 
‘* He came first to us, but he will stay with the Guises.” 

' «Hush !” said Madame Fieschi, looking at the fair 
Limeuil. ‘* Attend to what concerns you——” 

The young lady turned to the door. She was expect- 

ing Sardini, an Italian nobleman, who subsequently made 


116 Catherine de’. Medici 


him marry her after a little accident that overtook her in 
the Queen’s dressing-room, and which procured her the 
honor of having a queen for her midwife. 

«*By Saint Alipantin, Mademoiselle Davila seems to 
grow prettier every morning,” said Monsieur de Robertet, 
Secretary of State, as he bowed to the Queen-mother’s 
ladies. 

The advent of the Secretary of State, though he was 
exactly as important as a Cabinet Minister in these days, 
made no sensation whatever. 

‘Tf you think that, Monsieur, do lend me the epigram 
against Messieurs de Guise; I know you have it,” said 
Mademoiselle Davila to Robertet. 

‘‘T have it no longer,” replied the Secretary, going 
across to speak to Madame de Guise. 

««T have it,” said the Comte de Grammont to Mademoi- 
selle Davila ; “but I will lend it you on only one con- 
dition.” 

“On condition——? For shame!” said Madame 
Fieschi. 

«« You do not know what I want,” replied Grammont. 

“<‘ Oh, that is easy to guess,” said la Limeuil. 

The Italian custom of calling ladies, as French peasants 

_call their wives, 7a Such-an-one, was at that time the 
fashion at the Court of France. 

«You are mistaken,” the Count replied eagerly ; ‘‘ what 
I ask is, that a letter should be delivered to Mademoiselle 
de Matha, one of the maids on the other side—a letter 
from my cousin de Jarnac.” 

«‘ Do not compromise my maids; I will give it her my- 
self,” said the Countess Fieschi. ‘‘ Have you heard any 
news of what is going on in Flanders?” she asked Car- 
dinal de Tournon. ‘‘ Monsieur d’Egmont is at some new 
pranks, it would seem.” 

_ He and the Prince of Orange,” said Oypierre, with a 
highly expressive shrug. 


Catherine de’ Mediei Tit: 


‘‘The Duke of Alva and Cardinal de Granvelle are 
going there, are they not, Monsieur?” asked Amyot of 
Cardinal de Tournon, who stood, uneasy and gloomy, 
between the two groups after his conversation with the 
Chancellor. 

‘We, happily, are quiet, and have to defy heresy only 
on the stage,” said the young Duke, alluding to the part 
he had played the day before, that of a Knight subduing 
a Hydra with the word “ Reformation ” on its brow. 

Oatherine de’ Medici, agreeing on this point with her 
daughter-in-law, had allowed a theater to be constructed 
in the great hall, which was subsequently used for the 
meetings of the States at Blois, the hall between the build- 
ings of Louis XII. and those of Francis I. 

The Cardinal made no reply, and resumed his walk in 
the middle of the hall, talking in a low voice to Monsieur 
de Robertet and the Chancellor. Many persons know 
nothing of the difficulties that Secretaryships of State, 
now transformed into Cabinet Ministries, met with in the 
course of their establishment, and how hard the Kings 
of France found it to create them. At that period a 
Secretary like Robertet was merely a clerk, of hardly 
any account among the princes and magnates who settled 
the affairs of State. There were at that time no minis- 
terial functionaries but the Superintendent of Finance, 
the Chancellor, and the Keeper of the King’s Seals. 
The King granted a seat in the Council, by letters patent, 


~to such of his subjects as might, in his opinion, give use- | 


ful advice in the conduct of public affairs. A seat in 
the Council might be given to a president of a law court 
in the Parlement, to a bishop, to an untitled favorite. 
Once admitted to the Council, the subject strengthened 
his position by getting himself appointed to one of the 
Crown offices to which a salary was attached—the govern- 
ment of a province, a constable’s sword, a marshal’s baton, 
the command of the Artillery, the post of High Admiral, 


118 Catherine de’ Medici 


the colonelcy of some military corps, the captaincy of the 
galleys—or often some function of Court, such as that of 
Grand Master of the Household, then held by the Duc 
de Guise. 

«Do you believe that the Duc de Nemours will marry 
Francoise ?” asked Madame de Guise of the Due d’Or- 
léans’ instructor. 

<‘TIndeed, Madame, I know nothing but Latin,” was the 
reply. 

This made those smile who were near enough to hear 
it. Just then the seduction of Frangoise de Rohan by the 
Duc de Nemours was the theme of every conversation ; 
but as the Duc de Nemours was cousin to the King, and 
also allied to the House of Valois through his mother, the 
Guises regarded him as seduced rather than as a seducer. 
The influence of the House of Rohan was, however, so 
great, that after Francis II.’s death the Duc de Nemours 
was obliged to quit France in consequence of the lawsuit 
brought against him by the Rohans, which was compro- 
mised by the offices of the Guises. His marriage to the 
Duchesse de Guise, after Poltrot’s assassination, may ac- 
count for the Duchess’s question to Amyot, by explaining 
some rivalry, no doubt, between her and Mademoiselle de 
Rohan. 

““Look, pray, at that party of malcontents,” said the 
Comte de Grammont, pointing to Messieurs de Coligny, 
Cardinal de Chatillon, Danville, 'Thoré, Moret, and several 
other gentlemen suspected of meddling in the Reformation, 
who were standing all together between two windows at 
the lower end of the hall. 

«The Huguenots are on the move,” said Oypierre. ‘‘ We 
know that Théodore de Béze is at Nérac to persuade the 
Queen of Navarre to declare herself on their side by publicly 
renouncing the Catholic faith,” he added, with aglance at 
the Bailli d’Orléans, who was Chancellor to the Queen 
of Navarre, and a keen observer of the Court. 


Z 


Gathekine de’ Medici 119 


‘* She will do it,” said the Bailli d’Orléans drily. 

This personage, the Jacques Coeur of his day, and one 
of the richest middle-class men of his time, was named 
Groslot, and was envoy from Jeanne d’Albret to the French 
Court. 

** Do you think so ?” said the Chancellor of France to 
the Chancellor of Navarre, quite understanding the full 
import of Groslot’s remark. 

* Don’t you know,” said the rich provincial, “‘that the 
Queen of Navarre has nothing of the woman in her but 
her sex ? She is devoted to none but manly things ; her 
mind is strong in important pings and her pease un- 
daunted by the greatest adversities.” 


** Monsieur le Cardinal,” said the Chancellor Olivier to 


Monsieur de Tournon, who had heard Groslot, “what do 
you think of such boldness ?” 

“The Queen of Navarre does well to choose for her 
Chancellor a man from whom the House of Lorraine will 
need to borrow, and who offers the King his house when 
there is a talk of moving to Orleans,” replied the Car- 
dinal. 

The Chancellor and the Cardinal looked at each other, 
not daring to speak their thoughts ; but Robertet expressed 
them, for he thought it necessary to make a greater dis- 
play of devotion to the Guises than these great men, since 
he was so far beneath them. 

«Tt is most unfortunate that the House of Navarre, in- 
stead of abjuring the faith of their fathers, do not abjure 
the spirit of revenge and rebellion inspired by the Conné- 
table de Bourbon. Weshall see a repetition of the wars 
of the Armagnacs and the Bourguignons.” 

“* No,” said Groslot, ‘‘ for there is something of Louis XI. 
in the Cardinal de Lorraine.” 

«*« And in Queen Catherine too,” observed Robertet. 

At thismoment Madame Dayelle, Mary Stewart’s favorite 
waiting-woman, crossed the room, and went to the Queen’s 


| 


° 


120 Catherme de’ Medici 


Chamber, ‘The appearance of the waiting-woman made a 
little stir. . ; 

«‘ We shall be admitted directly,” said Madame Fieschi. 

** T donot think so,” said the Duchesse de Guise. ‘‘ Their 
_ Majesties will come out, for a State Council is to be held.” 

La Dayelle slipped into the royal chamber after scratch- 
ing at the door, a deferential custom introduced by 
Catherine de’ Medici, and adopted by the French Court. 

‘* What is the weather like, my dear Dayelle ?” asked 
Queen Mary, putting her fair fresh face ont between the 
curtains. 

«Oh! Madame——” 

‘* What is the matter, Dayelle? You might have the 
bowmen at your heels——” 

“Oh! Madame—is the King still sleeping ?” 

< Yes.” 

-* We are to leave the castle, and Monsieur le Cardinal 
desired me to tell you so, that you might suggest it to the 
King.” 

‘‘Do you know why, my good Dayelle ?” 

‘The Reformers mean to carry you off.” 

«Oh, this new religion leaves me no peace! I dreamed 
last night that I was in prison—I who shall wear the united 
crowns of the three finest kingdoms in the world.” 

‘*TIndeed ! but, Madame, it was only a dream.” 

_ Carried off! That would be rather amusing.—But 
for the sake of religion, and by heretics—horrible !” 

The Queen sprang out of bed and seated herselfin front 
of the fireplace in a large chair covered with red velvet, 
after wrapping herself in a loose black velvet gown handed 
to her by Dayelle, which she tied about the waist with a 
silken cord. Dayelle lighted the fire, for the early May 
mornings are cool on the banks of the Loire. 

«Then did my uncles get this news in the course of the 
night ?” the Queen inquired of Dayelle, with whom she 
was on familiar terms. 


Catherine de’ Medici 121 

‘¢ Karly this morning Messieurs de Guise were walking 
on the terrace to avoid being overheard, and received there 
- some messengers arriving in hot haste from various parts 
of the kingdom where the Reformers are busy. Her High- 
ness the Queen-mother went out with her Italians hoping 
to be consulted, but she was not invited to join the little 
council.” 

‘‘She must be furious.” 

«* All the more so because she had a little wrath lefi over 
from yesterday,” replied Dayelle. ‘‘ They say she was far 
from rejoiced by thesight of your Majesty in your dress of 
woven gold and your pretty veil of tan-colored crape——” 

*« Leave us now, my good Dayelle ; the King is waking. 
Do not let any one in, not even those who have the entrée. 
There are matters of State in hand, and my uncles will not 
disturb us.” 

«Why, my dear Mary, are you outofbedalready ? Isit 
daylight ?” said. the young King, rousing himself. 

«My dear love, while we were sleeping, malignants have 
been wide awake, and compel us to leave this pleasant 
home.” 


‘‘What do you mean by malignants, my sweetheart ? 


Did we not have the most delightful festival last evening 
but for the Latin which those gentlemen insisted on drop- 
ping into our good French ?” 

“Oh!” said Mary, that is in the best taste, and Rabelais 
brought Latin into fashion.” 

«‘ Ah! youare so learned, and I am only sorry not to be 
able to do you honorin verse. If I were not King, I would 
take back Master Amyot from my brother, who is being 
made so wise ne 

** You have nothing to envy your brother for ; he writes 
verses and shows them to me, begging me to show him 
mine. Be content, you are by far the best of the four, 
and will be as good a king as you are a charming lover. 
Indeed, that perhaps is the reason your mother loves 





~~ 


122 Cathetine de’ Medici 


you so little. But be easy; I, dear heart, will love you 
for all the world.” ; 

‘Tt is no great merit in me to lovesuch a perfect Queen,” 
said the young King. ‘‘I do not know what hindered me 
from embracing you before the whole Court last night, 
when you danced the dranle with tapers. I could see how 
all the women looked serving-wenches by you, my sweet 
Marie!” 

‘For plain prose your language is charming, my dear 
heart : it is love that speaks, to be sure. And, you know, 
my dear, that if you were but a poor little page, I should 
still love you just as much as I now do, and yet itis a good 
thing to be able to say, ‘ My sweetheart is a King !’” 

**Such a pretty arm! Why must we get dressed? I 
like to push my fingers through your soft hair and tangle 
your golden curls. Listen, pretty one; I will not allow 
you to let your women kiss your fair neck and your pretty 
shoulders any more ! I am jealous of the Scotch mists for 
having touched them.” 

«© Will you not come to see my beloved country ? The © 
Scotch would love you, and there would be no. rebellions, 
as there are here.” 

«Who rebels in our kingdom ?” said Frangois de Valois, 
wrapping himself in his gown, and drawing his wife on to 
his knee. 

«Yes, this is very pretty play,” said she, withdrawing 
her cheek from his kiss. ‘‘ But you have to reign, if you 
please, my liege.” 

‘© Who talks of reighing ?—This morning I want to——” 

** Need you say ‘I went to,’ when you can do what you 
will ?—That is the language of neither king nor lover. 
However, that is not the matter on hand—we have im- 
portant business to attend to.” 

‘©Oh!” said the King, ‘‘it is along time since we have 
had any business to do.—4s it amusing ?” 

** Not at all,” said Mary ; ‘‘ we must make a move,” 


- Catherine de’ Medici . 123 


«‘7 will wager, my pretty one, that you have seen one 
of your uncles, who manage matters so well that, at seven- 
teen, 1 am a King only in name. I really know not why, 
since the first Council, I have ever sat at one; they could 
do everything quite as well by setting a crown on'my 
chair ; I see everything through their eyes, and settle 
matters blindfold.” 

‘« Indeed, Monsieur,” said the Queen, standing up and 
assuming an air of annoyance, ‘‘you had agreed never 
again to give me the smallest trouble on that score, but 
to leave my uncles to exercise your royal power for the 
happiness of your people. A nice people they are! Why, 
if you tried to govern them unaided, they would swallow 
you whole like a strawberry. They need warriors to rule 
them—a stern master gloved with iron; while you—you 
are a charmer whom I love just as you are, and should not 
love if you were different—do you hear, my lord?” she 
added, bending down to kiss the boy, who seemed inclined 
to rebel against this speech, but who was mollified by the 
caress. 

«© Oh, if only they were not your uncles !” cried Francis. 
“‘T cannot endure that Cardinal; and when he puts on 
his insinuating air and his submissive ways, and says to 
me with a bow, ‘Sire, the honor of the Crown and the 
faith of your fathers is at stake, your Majesty will never 
allow ’ and this and that—I am certain he toils for 
nothing but his cursed House of Lorraine.” 

“ How well you mimic him!” cried the Queen. ‘‘ But 
why do you not make these Guises inform you of what is 
going forward, so as to govern by and by on your own 
account when you are of fullage? Iam your wife, and 
your honor is mine. We will reign, sweetheart—never 
fear! But all will not be roses for us till we are free to 
please ourselves. There is nothing so hard for a King 
as to govern ! 

«*Am I the Queen now, Iask you? Do you think that 


> 





— 


124 — Catherine de’ Medici 


your mother ever fails to repay. me in evil for what good 
my uncles may do for the glory of your throne? And 
mark the difference! My uncles are great princes, de- 
scendants of Charlemagne, full of good-will, and ready to 
die for you; whilethis daughter of a leech, or a merchant, 
Queen of France by a mere chance, is as shrewish as a 
citizen’s wife who is not mistress in herhouse. The Italian 


‘woman is provoked that she cannot set every one by the 


ears, and she is always coming to me with her pale, solemn 
face, and then with her pinched lips she begins : ‘ Daugh- 
ter, you are the Queen ; I am only the second lady in the 
kingdom’—she is furious, you see, dear heart—‘ but if I 
were in your place, I would not wear crimson velvet while 
the Court is in mourning, and I would appear in public 
with my hair plainly dressed and with no jewels, for what 
is unseemly in any lady is even moreso ina queen. Nor 
would I dance myself; I would only see others dance !? 
That is the kind of thing she says to me.” 

“Oh, dear Heaven!” cried the King, ‘‘I can hear 
her! Mercy, if she only knew——” 

** Why, you still quake before her. She wearies you— 


_ say so? We will send her away. By my faith, that she 


should deceivé you might be endured, but to be so 
tedions——” 

_ “Yn Heaven’s name, be silent, Marie,” said the King, 
at once alarmed and delighted. ‘‘1 would not have you 
lose her favor.” ae 

“«« Never fear that she will quarrel with me, with the 
three finest crowns in the world on my head, my little 
King,” said Mary Stewart. ‘‘ Even though she hates me 
for a thousand reasons, she flatters me, to win me from 
my uncles.” 

- “Hates you ?” 

“Yes, my angel! And if I had not a thousand such 
proofs as women can give each other, and such as women 
only can understand, her persistent opposition to our 


at 


Catherine de’ Medici 125 
happy love-making would be enough. Now, is it my 
fault if your father could never endure Mademoiselle de’ 
Medici ? In short, she likes me so little, that you had to 
be quite in a rage to prevent our having separate sets of 
rooms here and at Saint-Germain. She declared that it 
was customary for the Kings and Queens of France. Cus-. 
tomary !—It was your father’s custom ; that is quite in- 
telligible. As to your grandfather, Francis, the good 
man established the practise for the convenience of his - 
love affairs. So be on your guard; if we are obliged to 
leave this place, do not let the Grand Master divide us.” 

“<If we leave ? But I do not intend to leave this pretty 
chateau, whence we see the Loire and all the country 
around—a town at our feet, the brightest sky in the world 
above us, and these lovely gardens. Or if I go, it will be 
to travel with you in Italy and see Raphael’s pictures and 
Saint-Peter’s at Rome.” ‘ 

«¢ And the orange-trees. Ah, sweet little King, if you 
could know how your Mary longs to walk under orange- 
trees in flower and fruit! Alas! I may never see one! 
Oh! to hear an Italian song under those fragrant groves, © 
on the shore of a blue sea, under a cloudless sky, and to 
clasp each other thus !——” 

“* Let us be off,” said the King. 

‘* Be off !” cried the Grand Master, coming in. ‘* Yes, 
Sire, you must be off from Blois. Pardon my boldness ;_ 
but circumstances overrule etiquette, and I have come to 
beg you to call a Council.” 

Mary and Francis had started apart on being thus taken 
by surprise, and they both wore the same expression of 
offended sovereign Majesty. 

‘*You are too much the Grand Master, Monsieur de 
Guise,” said the young King, suppressing his wrath. 

‘¢ Devil take lovers!” muttered the Oardinal in Cath- 
erine’s ear. 

_ My son,” replied the Queen-mother, appearing behind 


126 Catherine de’ Medici 


the Cardinal, ‘‘ the safety of your person is at stake as well 
as of your kingdom.” 

«* Heresy was awake while you slept, Sire,” said the 
Cardinal. 

‘Withdraw into the hall,” said the little King; “ we 
will hold a Council.” 

** Madame,” said the Duke to the Queen, ‘‘ your furrier’s 
son has come with some furs which are seasonable for 
your journey, as we shall probably ride by the Loire.— 
But he also wishes to speak with Madame,” he added, 
turning to the Queen-mother. ‘‘ While the King is dress- 
ing, would you and Her Majesty dismiss him forthwith, 
so that this trifle may no further trouble us.” 

‘‘ With pleasure,” replied Catherine ; adding to herself, 
«Tf he thinks to be rid of me by such tricks, he little 
knows me.” 

The Cardinal and the Duke ,retired, leaving the two 
Queens with the King. As he went through the guard- 
room to go to the council-chamber, the Grand Master 
desired the usher to bring up the Queen’s furrier. 

When Christophe saw this official coming towards him 
from one end of the room to the other, he took him, froin 
his dress, to besome one of importance, and his heart sank 
within him; but this sensation, natural enough at the 
approach of a critical moment, became sheer terror when 
the usher, whose advance had the effect of directing the 
eyes of the whole splendid assembly to Christophe with 
his bundles and his abject looks, said to him— 

‘‘Their Highnesses the Cardinal de Lorraine and the 
Grand Master desire to speak to you in the council-room.” 

«‘ Has any one betrayed me?” was the thought of this 
hapless envoy of the Reformers. 

Christophe followed the usher, his eyes bent on the 
ground, and never looked up till he found himself in the 
spacious council-room—as large almost as the guardroom, 
The two Guises were alone, standing in front of the splen- 


Catherine de’ Medici | 127 


did chimney-place that backed against that in the guard- 
room, where the maids of honor were grouped. - 

«*You have come from Paris? Which road did you 
take ?” the Cardinal said to Christophe. 

«*T came by water, Monseigneur,” replied the lad. 

‘And how did you get into Blois?” said the Grand 
Master. 

«« By the river port, Mokecighonn 

‘And no one interfered with you?” said the Duke, 
who was examining the young man closely. 

‘*No, Monseigneur. I told the first soldier, who made 
as though he would stop me, that I had come on duty to 
wait on the two Queens, and that my father is furrier to 
their Majesties.” 

‘¢ What is doing in Paris ?” asked the Cardinal. 

«They are still trying to discover the murderer who 
killed President Minard.” 

‘«* Are not you the son of my surgeon’s greatest friend ?” 
asked the Duc de Guise, deceived by Christophe’s expres- 
sion of candor, now that his fears were allayed. 

«* Yes, Monseigneur.” 

The Grand Master went out, hastily lifted the curtain 
which screened the double doors of the council-chamber, 
and showed his face to the crowd, among whom he looked 
for the King’s surgeon-in-chief. Ambroise Paré, stand- 
ing in a corner, was aware of a glance shot at him by the 
Duke, and went to him. Ambroise, already inclined to 
the Reformed religion, ended by adopting it; but the 
friendship of the Guises and of the French kings preserved 
him from the various disasters that befell the heretics. 
The Duke, who felt that he owed his life to Ambroise 
Paré, had appointed him surgeon-in-chief to the King 
within a few days past. 

‘¢ What is it, Monseigneur ?” said the leech. ‘‘Is the 
King ill? Ishould not be surprised.” 

why?” 


128 Catherine de’ Medici } : 


«‘ The Queen is too fascinating,” said the surgeon. 

** Ah!” replied the Duke, surprised. ‘‘ However, that is 
not the case,” he went on after a pause. ‘‘ Ambroise, I 
want you to see a friend of yours,” and he led him on-to 


, the threshold of the council-chamber door and pointed to 


Christophe. 

** Ah, to be sure,” cried the surgeon, holding ont his 
hand to the youth. ‘‘ How is your father, my boy ?” 

«* Very well, Master Ambroise,” Christophe replied. 

«*And what are you doing at Court ?” Paré went on. 
*‘It is not your business to carry parcels ; your father 
wants to make a lawyer of you. Do you want the protec- 
tion of these two great Princes to become a pleader ?” 

«‘ Why, yes, indeed,” replied Christophe, “‘ but for my 
father’s sake; and if you can intercede for us, add your 
entreaties,” he went on, with a piteous air, ‘‘to obtain an 
order from Monseigneur the Grand Master for the payment 
of the moneys due to my father, for he does not know 
which way to turn——” 

The Cardinal and his brother looked at each other, and 
seemed to be satisfied. ‘ 

**Leave us now,” said the Grand Master to Ambroise 
with a nod.—*‘ And you, my friend,” he added to Chris- 


- tophe, ‘‘settle your business quickly, and get back to 


Paris. My secretary will give you a pass, for, by Heaven, 
the roads will not be pleasant to travel on!” 

Neither of the brothers had the slightest suspicion of 
the important interests that lay in Christophe’s hands, 
being now quite assured that he was certainly the son of 
Lecamus, a good Catholic, purveyor to the Court, and that 
he had come solely to get his money. 

“«Take him round to be near the door of the Queen’s 
chamber ; she will ask for him no doubt,” said the Car- 
dinal to the surgeon. 


While the furrier’s son was being thus cross-questioned 


Catherine de’ Medici 129 


in the council-room, the King had left his mother and the 
Queen together, having gone into his dressing-room, which 
was beyond a room adjoining the bedroom. 

Catherine, standing in the recess of the deep window, was 
looking out on the gardens lost in melancholy thought. 
She foresaw that one of the greatest commanders of the 
age, in the course of that morning, in the very next hour, 
would take the place of her son the King, under the ter- 
rible title of Lieutenant-General of the kingdom. In the 
face of such peril she was alone, without a plan, without 
defense. Indeed, as she stood there in her mourning, 
which she had not ceased to wear since the death of Henri 
IL., she might have been compared to a phantom, so still 
were her pale features as she stood absorbed in thought. 
Her black eye seemed to wander in the indecision for 
which great politicians are so often blamed, which in them 
is the result of the breadth of sight which enables them to 
see every difficulty, and to balance one against the other, 
adding up the sum-total of risk before taking a part. 
There was a ringing in her ears, a turmoil in her blood ; 
but she stood there, nevertheless, calm and dignified, while 
gauging the depths of the political abyss beyond the real 
gulf that lay at her feet. 

Since the day when the Vidame de Chartres had been 
arrested, this was thesecond of those terrible days of which 
there were henceforth to be so many in the course of her 
royal career ; but she never again made a mistake in the 
school of power. Though the scepter seemed always to fly 
from her grasp, she meant to seize it, and, in fact, did 
seize it, by that sheer force of will which had never given 
way to the scorn of her father-in-law, Francis I., and his 
Court—by whom, though Dauphiness, she had been so 
little thought of—nor to the constant denials of Henri IL, 
nor to the unresting antagonism of her rival, Diane de 
Poitiers. A man would not have understood this Queen 
in check ; but Mary Stewart, so fair, so crafty, so clever, 

9 


_—_—_ 


130 Catherine de’ Medici 


so girlish, and yet so omniscient, watched her out of the 
corner of her eye while affecting to warble an Italian air 
with an indifferent countenance. Without understanding 
the tempest of ambition which brought a cold moisture to 
the Florentine Queen’s brow, the pretty Scotch girl, with 
her saucy face, knew that the high position of her uncle, the 
Duc de Guise, was filling Catherine with suppressed fury. 
Now, nothing amused her so much as watching her mother- 
in-law, whom she regarded as an intriguing adventuress, 
who, having been humbled, was always prepared for re- 
venge. The face of the elder was grave and gloomy, a 
little cadaverous, by reason of the livid complexion of the 
Italians, which by daylight looks like yellow ivory, though 
by candle-light it is dazzling ; while the younger face was 
bright and fresh. At sixteen Mary Stewart had that 
creamy fairness for which she was sofamous. Her bright, 
rosy face, with clearly-cut features, sparkled with childish 
mischief, very frankly expressed in the regular arch of her 
brows, the brightness of her eyes, and the pert smile of her 
_ pretty mouth. She had then in perfection that kittenish 
grace which nothing—neither captivity nor the sight of 
the horrible block—ever completely quelled. 

Thus these two Queens, one in the morning, the other 
in the summer of life, were at this time a perfect con- 
trast. Catherine was an imposing sovereign, an impene- 
trable widow, with no passion but the love of power. 
Mary was a feathered-brained and light-hearted wife, who 
thought of her crowns as playthings. One looked for- 
ward to impending misfortunes; she even had a glimpse 
of the murder of the Guises, guessing that this would be 
the only way to strike down men who were capable of rais- 
ing themselves above the throne and the Parlement ; 
she saw rivers of blood in a long struggle—the other little 
dreamed that she would herself be murdered by form of law. 

A curious reflection brought a little calm to the Italian 


Queen. 


Catherine de’ Medici ian ©: | 


** According to the soothsayer and to Ruggieri’s fore- 
cast, this reign is soon to end. My difficulties will not 
- last,” thought she. 

And thus, strange to say, an occult science, now for- 
gotten—judicial astrology—was a support to Catherine at 
this juncture, as it was throughout her life ; for the belief 
grew constantly from seeing the predictions of those who 
practised it realized with the greatest exactitude. 

‘You are very serious, Madame,” said Mary Stewart, 
taking from Dayelle’s hands her little cap, pinched down 
over the parting of her hair with two frilled wings of 
handsome lace beyond the pufis of wavy yellow hair that 
shadowed her temples. 

The painters of the time have so amply perpetuated this 
cap, that it now belongs essentially to the Queen of Scots, 
though it was Catherine who invented it when she went 
into mourning for Henri II. ; but she could not wear it 
with such good effect as her daughter-in-law, to whom it 
was infinitely more becoming. And this was not the 
smallest of the grievances harbored by the Queen-mother 
against the young Queen. ; 

«‘Does your Majesty mean that for a reproof?” said 
Catherine, turning to her daughter-in-law. 

*“*T owe respect, and should not dare——” said the 
Scotchwoman meaningly, with a glance at Dayelle. 

Between the two Queens the favorite waiting-woman 
stood like the figure-head on a fire-dog; an approving. 
smile might cost her her life. 

«* How can I be as gay as you after losing the late King, 
and when I see myson’s kingdom on the eve of a confla- 
gration ?” 

«* Politics do not much concern women,” replied Mary 
Stewart. “‘ Besides, my uncles are there.” 

These two sentences, in the circumstances, were two 
poisoned arrows. 

«Let us see our furs then,” the Italian replied, “and 


132 Catherine de’ Medici 


so turn our minds to our own business, ise your uncles 
settle that of the kingdom.” 

“Oh, but we shall attend the Connell, Madame ; we are 
of tices use there than you suppose.” 

“We?” said Catherine, with feigned astonishment. 
**T, for my part, do not know Latin!” 

«© You fancy me so learned ?” said Mary Stewart, with 
-alaugh. ‘“ Nay, Madame, 1 swear to you that at this mo- 
ment I am studying in the hope of rivaling the Medici 
and of knowing some day how to heal the wounds of the 
country.” 

This sharp shaft pierced Catherine to the heart, for it 
was an allusion to the origin of the Medici, who were de- 
scended, as some said, from a leech, or, as others had it, 
from a rich drug merchant. She had no reply ready. 
Dayelle colored when her mistress looked to her for the 
applause which everybody, and even queens, expect from 
their inferiors when they have no better audience. 

<¢ Your witticisms, Madame, cannot, unfortunately, heal 
either the maladies of the State or those of the Church,” 
said Catherine, with calm and dignified coldness. ‘‘ My 
forefathers’ knowledge of such matters won them thrones ; 
while you, if you persist in jesting in the midst of danger, 
are like enough to lose yours.” 

At this juncture Dayelle opened the door to Christophe, 
shown in by the chief physician himself after scratching 
._ at the door. 
' The young Reformer wanted to study Catherine’s coun- 
tenance, and affected a shyness, which was natural enough 
on finding himself in this place ; but he was surprised by 
Mary’s eagerness. She rushed at the boxes to look at her 
surcoat. 

«‘ Madame,” said Christophe, addressing Catherine. 

He turned his back on the other Queen and Dayelle, 
promptly taking advantage of the attention the two were 
devoting to the furs to strike a bold blow. 


Catherine de’ Medici 133 


“What do you want of me?” asked Catherine, looking | 
keenly at him. 

Christophe had placed the agreement pkopcesd by the 
Prince de Condé, with the Reformer’s plan of action and 
an account of their forces, over his heart, between his 
cloth jerkin and his shirt, wrapped inside the furrier’s bill | 
of what Queen Catherine owed him. 

«* Madame,” said he, ‘* my father is in dreadful want of 
money, and if you would condescend to look through the 
accounts,” he added, unfolding the paper and slipping the 
agreement under it, ‘* you will see that your Majesty owes 
him six thousand crowns. May your goodness have pity 
onus! See, Madame.” 

And he held out the document. 

“Read it. This dates so far back asthe accession of the 
late King.” 

Catherine was bewildered by the preamble to the ad- 
dress, but she did not lose her presence of mind; she 
hastily rolled up the paper, admiring the young man’s 
readiness and daring. She saw from these masterly tac- 
tics that he would understand her, so she tapped him on 
the head with the roll of paper, and said :—* You are 
very ill advised, my young friend, in handing the pill in 
before the furs. Learn some knowledge of women! 
You must never ask for your money till we are perfectly 
satisfied.” 

“Tg that the tradition ?” said the young Queen to her 
mother-in-law, who made no reply. 

*¢ Ah, Mesdames, excuse my father,” said Christophe. 
“Tf he had not wanted the money, you would not have 
your furs. The country is up in arms, and there is so 
much danger on the roads, that only our great need in- 
duced me to come. No one else would risk his life.” 

«This lad is quite fresh,” said Mary Stewart, smiling. 

It is not superfluous to the better understanding of this 
important little scene to remark that a surcoat was, as the 


184 Catherine de’ Medici 


name implies, a sort of close-fitting jacket or spencer which 
ladies wore over their dress, and which wrapped them 
closely, shaped down tothe hips. This garment protected 
the back, chest, and throat from the cold. Surcoats were 
lined with fur which turned up over the stuff, forming a 
more or less wide border. Mary Stewart while trying on 
her surcoat was looking at herself in a large Venetian mir- 
ror, to see the effect of it at the back; thus she had left 
her mother-in-law liberty to glance at the packet of papers, 
of which the volume might otherwise have excited her 
suspicions. 

** Does a man ever speak to a lady of the dangers he has 
incurred when he is safe and sound in her presence ?” said 
she, turning round on Christophe. 

‘Oh, Madame, I have your account too,” said he, look- 
ing at her with well-acted simplicity. 

The young Queen looked at him from head to foot. with- 
out taking the paper ; but she observed, without drawing 
any conclusions at the moment, that he had taken Queen 
Catherine’s bill out of his breast, and drew hers out of his 
pocket. Nor did she see in the lad’s eyes the admiration 
that her beauty won her from all the world; but she was 
thinking so much of her surcoat, that she did not at once 
wonder what could be the cause of his indifference. 

“Take it, Dayelle,” said she to the waiting-woman. 
‘*You can give the account to Monsieur de Versailles 
(Loménie), and desire him, from me, to pay it.” 

“‘Indeed, Madame, but if you do not give me an order 
signed by the King, or by His Highness the Grand Master, 
who is at hand, your gracious promise will have no 
effect.” 

’ “You are rather hastier than beseems a subject, my 
friend,” said Mary Stewart. ‘‘So you do not believe in 
royal promises ? ” 

The King came in dressed in his long silk hose and 
trunks, the breeches of the time, but wore neither doublet 


Catherine de’ Medici | 135 


nor cloak; he had only a rich wrapper of velvet lined 
throughout with fur ; fur wrapper, a word of modern use, 
can alone describe the négligé of his apparel. 

“‘ Who is the rascal that doubts your word ?” said the 
young King, who, though at a distance, had heard his 
wife’s speech. 

The door of the King’s closet was hidden by the bed. 
This closet was subsequently called the old closet (Je Cabinet 
vieux) to distinguish it from the splendid painted closet 
constructed for Henri III. on the other side of the room 
adjoining the hall of the States-General. Henri III. hid 
the assassins in the old closet, and sent to desire the Due 
de Guise to attend him there ; while he, during the murder, 
remained concealed in the new closet, whence he emerged 
only to see this overweening subject die—a subject for 
whom there could be no prison, no tribunal, no judges, 
no laws in the kingdom. But for these dreadful events, 
the historian could now hardly identify the former uses 
of these rooms and halls filled with soldiers. A sergeant 
writes to his sweetheart on the spot where Catherine 
gravely considered her struggle with parties. 

“Come, my boy,” said the Queen-mother ; ‘‘ I will see 
that you are paid. Trade must flourish, and money is its 
main sinew.” 

“ Ay, go, my good youth,” said the young Queen, 
laughing ; ‘‘my august mother understands matters of 
trade better than I do.” 

Catherine was about to leave the room without replying 
to this innuendo ; but it struck her that her indifference 
might arouse suspicions, and she retorted on her daughter- 
in-law— 

«‘ And you, my dear, trade in love.” 

Then she went down-stairs. 

«* Put all those things away, Dayelle.—And come to the 
council-room, Sire,” said the young Queen to the King, 
enchanted at haying to decide the important question of 


J 


186 Catherine de’ Medici 


the lieutenancy of the kingdom in her mother-in-law’s 
absence. 

Mary Stewart took the King’s arm. Dayelle went out 
first, speaking a word to the pages, and one of them— 
young Téligny, fated to perish miserably on the night of 
Saint-Bartholomew—shouted out— 

«The King!” 

On hearing the cry, the two musketeers carried arms, 
and the two pages led the way towards the council- 
chamber between the line of courtiers on one side and 
the line formed by the maids of honor to the two Queens 
on the other. All the members of the Council then 
gathered round the door of the hall, which was at no 
great distance from the staircase. The Grand Master, 
the Cardinal, and the Chancellor advanced to meet the 
two young sovereigns, who smiled to some of the maids, 
or answered the inquiries of some of the Court favorites 
more intimate than the rest. 

The Queen, however, evidently impatient, dragged 
Francis II. on towards the vast council-room. As soon as 
the heavy thud of the arquebuses dropping on the floor 
again announced that the royal pair had gone in, the pages 
put on their caps, and the conversations in the various 
groups took their course again on the gravity of the 
business about to the discussed. , 

*<Chiverni was sent to fetch the Connétable, and he has 
not come,” said one. 

«‘'There is no prince of the blood present,” remarked 
another. | 

The Chancellor and Monsieur de Tournon looked anx- 
ious. 

«The Grand Master has sent word to the Keeper of the 
Seals to be sure not to fail to attend this Council ; a good 
_ many letters patent will be issued, no doubt.” 

** How is it that the Queen-mother remains below, in 
her own rooms, at such a juncture ? ” 


Catherine de’ Medici 137 


“They are going to make. things hot for us,” said 
Groslot to Cardinal de Chatillon. 
In short, every one had something to say. Some were 
pacing the room from end to end, others were flitting 
round the maids of honor, as though it could be possible 
to catch a few words through a wall three feet thick, or 

two doors and the heavy curtains that screened them. 

The King, seated at one end of the long table covered 
with blue velvet, which stood in the middle of the room, 
his young Queen in an armchair at his side, was waiting 
for his mother. Robertet was mending his pens. The 
two Cardinals, the Grand Master, the Chancellor, the 
Keeper of the Seals—in short, the whole assembly, looked 
at the little King, wondering why he did not give the 
word for them all to be seated. 

“¢ Are we to sit in council in the absence of the Queen- 
mother ?” the Chancellor asked, addressing the young 
King. 

The two Guises ascribed Oatherine’s absence to some 
cunning trick of their niece’s. Then, spurred by a sig- 
nificant look, the much daring Oardinal said to the King— 

“ Is it your Majesty’s goodwill that we should proceed 
without Madame your mother ?” 

Francis, not daring to have an opinion of his own, 
replied— 

«« Gentlemen, be seated.” 

The Cardinal briefly pointed out the dangers of the 
situation. This great politician, who showed astounding 
skill in this business, broached the question of the lieuten- 
ancy amid utter silence. The young King was, no doubt, 
conscious of an awkwardness, and guessed that his mother 
had a real sense of the rights of the Crown, and a knowl- 
edge of the danger that threatened his power, for he 
replied to a direct question on the Cardinal’s part— 

“¢ We will wait for my mother.” 

Enlightened by this inexplicable delay on Queen Cath- 


t. 
* 
’ 
! 


138 Oathersie de’: Medici 


erine’s part, Mary Stewart suddenly recalled in a single 
flash of thought three incidents which were clear in her 
memory. In the first place, the bulk of the packet pre- 
sented to her mother-in-law, which she had seen, though 
so inattentive at the moment (for a woman who seems to 
see nothing is still a lynx), then the place where Chris- 
tophe had carried them to separate them from hers. 

“¢Why ?” she said to herself. And then she remem- 
bered the boy’s cold look, which she at once ascribed to 
the Reformers’ hatred of the QGuises’ niece. A voice 
within her cried, ‘Is he not an envoy from the Hugue- 
nots ?” 

Acting, as all hasty persons do, on the first impulse, she 
exclaimed— 

**T myself will go and fetch my mother.” 

She rushed away and down the stairs, to the great 
amazement of the gentlemen and ladies of the Court. 
She went down to her mother-in-law’s rooms, crossed the 
guardroom, opened the door of the bedroom as stealthily 
as a thief, crept noiselessly over the carpet as silently as a 
shadow, and could see her nowhere. Then she thought 
she could surprise her in the splendid private room between 
the bedroom and the oratory. The arrangement of this 
oratory is perfectly recognizable to this day; the fashion 
of the time then allowed it to serve all the purposes in 
private life which are now served by a boudoir. 

By.a piece of good-fortune, quite unaccountable when 
we see in how squalid a state the Crown has left. this 
chateau, the beautiful paneling of Catherine’s closet exists 
to this day ; in the fine carving the curious may still dis- 
cern traces of Italian magnificence, and discover the hid- 
ing-places the Queen-mother had contrived there. 

A somewhat exact description of these curiosities is 
indeed indispensable to a comprehension of the scene that 
took place there. The woodwork at that time consisted 
of about a hundred and eighty small oblong panels, of 


Catherine de’ Medici 139 


which a hundred or so still remain, each carved with a 
different design, obviously suggested by the most elegant 
Italian arabesques. The wood is holm-oak ; the red ground 
which is found under the coat of limewash, applied at the 
time of the cholera—a quite useless precaution—shows 
plainly that these panels were gilt ; and in spots where the 
whitewash has rubbed off we see that some portions of the 
design were in color, blue, red, or green against the gold 
background. The number of these panels shows an evi- 
dent intention to cheat investigation ; but if there could 
be a doubt, the keeper of the chateau, while holding up 
Catherine’s memory to the execration of all living men, 
shows to visitors, at the bottom of the paneling, and ona 
level with the floor, a somewhat heavy skirting which can 
be raised, and under which there are a number of ingeni- 
ous springs. By pressing a knob thus concealed, the 
Queen could open certain of these panels, known to her 
alone, behind which lay a hiding-place of the same oblong 
shape as the panels, but of varying depth. To this day 
a practised hand would find it difficult to detect which of 
these panels would open on its invisible hinges ; and when 
the eye was diverted by the skilfully combined colors and 
gilding that covered the cracks, it is easy to imagine that 
it was impossible to discover one or two panels among 
nearly two hundred. 

At the moment when Mary Stewart laid her hand on the 
somewhat elaborate latch of the door to the closet, the 
Italian Queen, having convinced herself already of the im- 
portance of the Prince de Condé’s schemes, had just 
pressed the spring hidden by the skirting, one of the 
panels had fallen open, and Catherine had turned to the 
table to take up the papers and hide them, to turn her 
attention to the safeguard of the devoted messenger who 
had brought themtoher. Whenshe heard the door open, 
she at once guessed that no one but Queen Mary would 
venture to come in unannounced. 


140 Catherine de’ Medici 


«« You are lost,” she said to Christophe, seeing that she 
could neither hide the papers nor close the panel promptly 
enough to preserve the secret of her hiding-place. 

Christophe’s only reply was a sublime look. 

“* Povero mio!” said Catherine, before turning to her 
daughter-in-law. ‘Treason, Madame!” she exclaimed. 
“TI have them fast! Send for the Cardinal and the Duke. 
And be sure,” she added, pointing to Christophe, ‘‘ that 
this fellow does not escape ! ” 

Thus in an instant this masterful woman saw that it 
would be necessary to give up the hapless young man; 
she could not hide him, it was impossible to help him to 
escape; and besides, though a week ago he might have 
been saved, now the Guises had, since that morning, been 
aware of the conspiracy, and they too must have the lists 
which she held in her hand, and were drawing all the 
Reformers into a trap. And so, pleased at finding her 
adversaries in the mind she had hoped for, now that the 
plot had become known, policy required her to assume the 
merit of discovering it. 

These dreadful considerations flashed through her mind 
in the brief moment while the young Queen was opening 
the door. Mary Stewart stood silent for an instant. Her 
expression lost its brightness and assumed that keenness 
which suspicion always gives the eye, and which in her was 
terrible by the sudden contrast. She looked from Chris- 
tophe to the Queen-mother, and from the Queen-mother 
to Christophe, with a glance of malignant doubt. Then 
she snatched up a bell, which brought in one of Osth- 
erine’s maids of honor. 

‘* Mademoiselle du Rouet, send in the Captain of the 
Guard,” said Mary Stewart, in breach of every law of 
etiquette, necessarily set aside in such circumetances. 

While the young Queen gave her order, Catherine stood 

looking at Christophe as much as to say, *‘ Courage!” 
The young Reformer understood, and replied by an ex. 


Gathasiiin de’ Medici x 141 


pression which conveyed, “‘ Sacrifice me, as they have 
sacrificed me!” ; 

‘** Put your trust in me,” Catherine answered by a ges- 
ture. 

Then when her daughter-in-law turned upon her, she 
was deeply engaged in examining the papers. 

‘©You are of the Reformed religion?” said Mary 
Stewart to Christophe. 

‘Yes, Madame.” 

“Then I was not mistaken,” she muttered to herself, 
as she read in the young man’s eyes the same expression 
in which coldness and aversion lurked behind a look of 
humility. 

Pardaillan appeared at once, sent down by the two Princes 
of Lorraine and the King. The captain sent for by Mary 
Stewart followed this young man—a most devoted adher- 
ent of the Guises. 

‘¢ Go from me to the King, beg him, with the Cardinal 
and the Grand Master, to come here at once, and tell them 
I would not take such a liberty but that something of 
serious importance has occurred.—Go, Pardaillan.—And 
you, Lewiston, keep guard over this Reformed traitor,” 
she added to the Scotchman in their native tongue, point- 
ing to Christophe. 

The two Queens did not speak till the King came. — It 
was aterrible pause. Mary Stewart had shown her mother- 
in-law the whole extent of the part her uncles made her 
play ; her unsleeping and habitual distrust stood revealed ; 
and her youthful conscience felt how disgraceful such a 
part must be to a great Queen. Catherine, on her side, 
had betrayed herself in her alarm, and feared that she had 
been understood ; she was trembling for the future. The 
two women, one ashamed and furious, the other vicious 
but calm, withdrew into the window bay, one leaning on 
the right side, the other on the left ; but their looks were 
se expressive, that each turned away, and with a common 


142 Catherine de’ Medici 


instinct looked out of the window at the sky. These two 
women, clever as they were, at that moment had no more 
wit than the commonest. Perhaps it is always so when cir- 
cumstances overpower men. There is always a moment 
when even genius is conscious of its smallness in the pres- 
ence of a great catastrophe. 

As for Christophe, he felt like a man falling into an 
abyss. Lewiston, the Scotch captain, listened to the 
silence, looking at the furrier’s son and the two Queens 
with a soldier’s curiosity. The King’s entrance put an 
end to this painful situation. 

The Cardinal went straight up to Queen Catherine. 

“T have in my hand all the threads of the plot hatched 
by the heretics ; they sent this boy to me carrying this 
treaty and these documents,” said Catherine in an under- 
tone. 

While Catherine was explaining matters to the Cardinal, 
Queen Mary was speaking a few words in the Grand 
Master’s ear. 

«¢ What is this all about ?” asked the young King, stand- 
ing alone amid this conflict of violent interests. 

“‘The proofs of what I was telling your Majesty are 
already to hand,” said the Cardinal, seizing the papers. 

The Duc de Guise, unmindful of the fact that he was 
interrupting him, drew his brother aside and said in a 
whisper— 

«This then makes me Lieutenant-General without any 
opposition. ” 

A keen glance was the Cardinal’s only reply, by which 
he conveyed to his brother that he had already appreciated 
the advantages to be derived from Catherine’s false 
position. 

‘Who sent you ?” asked the Duke of Christophe. 

‘« Chaudieu the preacher,” he replied. 

‘*Young man, you lie,” said the Duke roughly. “It 


was the Prince de Condé.” 


Catherine de’ Medici 143 


‘«The Prince de Condé, Monseigneur,” replied Chris- 
tophe, with a look of surprise. ‘‘I never saw him, I 
belong to the Palais. Iam working under Monsieur de 
Thou. Iam his clerk, and he does not know that I have 
joined the religion. I only submitted to the preacher’s 
entreaties.” ; 

‘¢ That will do,” said the Cardinal.—‘‘ Call Monsieur 
de Robertet,” he added to Lewiston, “for this young 
villain is craftier than old politicians. He has taken us 
in, my brother and me, when we should have given him 
the Host without confession.” 

““You are no child, by Heaven!” cried the Duke, 
‘and you shall be treated as a man.” 

“‘They hoped to win over your august mother,” said 
the Cardinal, turning to the King, and trying to lead him 
aside to bring him to his way of thinking. 

‘* Alas!” replied Catherine, speaking to her son with a 
reproachful air, and stopping him just as the Cardinal was 
taking him into the oratory to subjugate him with danger- 
ous eloquence, ‘‘ you here see the effect of the position I 
am placed in. J am supposed to rebel against my lack of 
influence in public affairs—I, the mother of four princes 
of the House of Valois.” 

The young King prepared to listen. Mary Stewart, 
seeing his brow knit, led him off into the window recess, 
where she cajoled him with gentle speeches in alow voice ; 
much the same, no doubt, as those she had lavished on him — 
when he rose. 

The two brothers meanwhile read the papers handed 
over to them by the Queen-mother. Finding in them much 
information of which their spies and Monsieur de Brague- 
lonne, the governor of the Chatelet, knew nothing, they 
were inclined to believe in Catherine’s good faith. Rob- 
ertet came in and had private instructions with regard to 
Christophe. The hapless tool of the leaders of the Refor- 
mation was led away by four men of the Scotch Guard, 


33 


144 Catherine de’ Medici 


who took him downstairs and handed him over to Monsieur 
de Montrésor, the Provost of the chéteau. This terrible 
personage himself escorted Christophe with five or six 
sergeants to the prison situated in the vaulted cellars of 
the now ruined tower, which the verger of the chateau of 
Blois shows the visitor, and says that these were the 
oubliettes. 

After such an event the Council could only be an empty 
form: the King, the young Queen, the Grand Master, 
and the Cardinal de Lorraine went back to the council- 
room, taking with them Catherine, quite conquered, who 
only spoke to approve of the measures demanded by the 
Guises. In spite of some slight opposition on the part of 
the Chancellor Olivier, the only person to utter a word 
- suggesting the independence needful to the exercise of his 
functions, the Duc de Guise was appointed Lieutenant- 
General of the kingdom. Robertet carried the motions 
with a promptitude arguing such devotion as might be 
well called complicity. 

The King, with his mother on his arm, once more crossed 
the guardroom, and announced to the Court that he pro- 
posed to move to Amboise on the following day. This 
royal residence had been unused since Charles VIII. had 
very involuntarily killed himself there by striking his 
head against the pediment of a door that was being carved 
for him, believing that he could pass under the scaffolding 
without bending his head. Catherine, to mask the schemes 
of the Guises, had announced her intention of finishing 
the chateau of Amboise on behalf of the Crown at the 
same time as her own chateau of Chenonceaux. But no 
one was deceived by this pretense, and the Court anticipated 
strange events. 


After spending about two honrs in accustoming himself 
to the darkness of his dungeon, Christophe found that it 
was lined with boards, clumsy indeed, but thick enough 


| Catherine de’ Medici 145 


to make the square box healthy and habitable. The door, 
like that into a pig-sty, had compelled him to bend double 
to getintoit. On one side of this trap a strong iron grating 
admitted a little air and light from the passage. This 
arrangement, exactly like that of the crypts at Venice, 
showed very plainly that the architect of the chateau of 
Blois belonged to the Venetian school, which gave so many 
builders to Europe in the Middle Ages. By sounding the 
walls above the woodwork, Christophe discovered that the 
two walls which divided this cell from two others, to the 
right and left, were built of brick ; and as he knocked, to 
estimate the thickness of the wall, he was not a little 
surprised to hear some one knocking on the other side. 

«‘Who are you?” asked his neighbor, speaking into 
the corridor. 

“‘T am Christophe Lecamus.” 

‘* And I,” said the other voice, ‘‘ am Captain Chandien. 
I was caught this evening a Beaugency ; but, happily, 
there is nothing against me.’ 

«‘ Everything is discovered,” said Christophe; ‘‘ so you 
are saved from the worst of it.” 

‘¢We have three thousand men at this ‘ivaaest time in 
the forests of Vendémois, all men determined enough to 
seize the Queen-mother and the King on their journey. 
Happily, la Renaudie was cleverer than I; he escaped. 
You had just set ont when the Guisards caught us,” 

‘* But I know nothing of la Renandie.” . 

‘Pooh! my brother told me everything, 
captain. 

On hearing this, Christophe went back to his bench and 
made no further reply to anything the so-called captain 
could say to him, for he had had enough experience of the 
law to know how necessary it was to be cautious in prison. 

In the middle of the night he saw the pale gleam of a 
lantern in the passage, after hearing the unlocking of the 


ponderous bolts that closed the iron door “f the cellar, 
19 


33 


replied the 


’ 


146 Catherine de’ Medici 


The provost himself had come to fetch Christophe. This 
attention to a man who had been left in the dungeon with- 
out food struck Christophe as strange; but the upset at 
Court had, no doubt, led to his being forgotten. One of 
the provost’s sergeants bound his hands with a cord, which 
he held till they had reached one of the low rooms in Louis 

XII.’s part of the chateau, which evidently was the ante- 
room to the apartments of some person of importance. 
The sergeant and the provost bid him be seated on a bench, 
where the sergeant tied his feet as he had already tied his 
hands. Atasign from Monsieur de Montrésor the sergeant 
then left them. 

“* Now listen to me, my young friend,” said the provost 
to Christophe, and the lad observed that he was in full 
dress at that hour of the night, for his fingers fidgeted 
with the collar of his Order. This circumstance made the 
furrier’s son thoughtful; he saw that there was more to 
come. Atthis moment, certainly, they could not be going 
either to try him or to hang him. 

«* My young friend, you may spare yourself much suffer- 
ing by telling me here and now all you know of the com- 
munications between Queen Catherine and Monsieur de 
Condé. Not only will you not be hurt, but you will be 
taken into the service of Monseigneur, the Lieutenant- 
General of the kingdom, who likes intelligent people, and 
who was favorably impressed by your looks. The Queen- 
mother is to be packed off to Florence, and Monsieur de 
Condé will no doubt stand his trial. So, take my word 
for it, small men will do well to attach themselves to the 
great men in power.—Tell me everything, and it will be 
to your advantage.” 

«* Alas, Monsieur,” replied Christophe, ‘‘ I have nothing 
to say. I have confessed all I know to Messieurs de Guise 
in the Queen’s room. Chaudieu persuaded me to place 
those papers in the hands of the Queen-mother, by mak- 
ing me believe that the peace of the country was involved.” 


Catherine de’ Medici 147 


‘«* You never saw the Prince de Condé ?” 

‘«* Never,” said Christophe. 

Thereupon Monsieur de Montrésor left Christophe and 
went into an adjoining room. 

Christophe was not long left to himself. The door by 
which he had entered soon opened for several men to pass 
in, who did not shut it, letting various far from pleasant 
sounds come in from the courtyard. Blocks of wood and 
instruments were brought in, evidently intended to torture 
the Reformers’ messenger. Christophe’s curiosity soon 
found matter for reflection in the preparations the new- 
comers were making under his very eyes. Two coarse and 
poorly-clad varlets obeyed the orders of a powerful and 
thick-set man, who, on coming in, had a look at Chris- 
tophe like that of a cannibal at his victim ; he had scru- 
tinized him from head to foot, taking stock of his sinews, 
of their strength and power of resistance, with the calcu- 
lating: eye of a connoisseur. This man was the Blois 
executioner. Backwards and forwards several times, his 
men brought in a mattress, wooden wedges, planks, and 
other objects, of which the use seemed neither obvious nor 
hopeful to the unhappy boy for whom the preparations 
were being made, and whose blood ran cold in his veins 
with apprehension, which though vague was appalling. 
Two other men came in when Monsieur de Montrésor 
reappeared. 

«‘ What, is nothing ready yet ?” said the chief provost, 
to whom the two newcomers bowed respectfully. ‘Do 
you know,” he went on to the big man and his two satel- 
lites, ‘‘ that Monsieur le Cardinal supposes you to be get- 
ting on with your work ?—Doctor,” he added, turning to 
one of the newcomers, ‘‘ here is your man,” and ho pointed 
to Christophe. 

The doctor went up to the prisoner, untied his hands, 
and sounded his back and chest. Science quite seriously 
repeated the torturer’s investigation, Meanwhile, a sery- 


148 Catherine de’ Medici 


ant in the livery of the House of Guise brought in several 
chairs, a table, and all the materials for writing. 

‘¢ Begin your report,” said Monsieur de Montrésor to 
_ the second person who had comein, dressed in black, who 
was a clerk. 

Then he came back to stand by Christophe, to whom 
he said very mildly— 

‘** My boy, the Chancellor, having learnt that you refuse 
to give satisfactory replies to my questions, has decided 
that you must be put to the torture—ordinary and extra- 
ordinary.” 

“Ts he in good health, and can he bear it ?” the clerk 
asked of the doctor. 

“Yes,” said the man of medicine, a physician attached 
to the House of Lorraine. 

‘‘ Well, then, retire to the adjoining room; we will 
send for you if it is necessary to consult you.” 

The physician left the room. 

His first panic past, Christophe collected all his courage. 
The hour of his martyrdom was come. He now looked on 
with cold curiosity at the arrangements made by the exe- 
entioner and his varlets. After hastily making up a bed, 
they proceeded to prepare a machine called the boot, con- 
sisting of boards, between which each leg of the victim was 
placed, surrounded with pads. The machinery used by 
bookbinders to press the volumes between two boards, 
which they tighten with cords, will give a very exact idea 
of the way in which each leg was encased. It is easy, 
then, to imagine the effect of a wedge driven home by a 
mallet between the two cases in which the legs were con- 
fined, and which, being tightly bound with rope, could 
not yield. The wedges were driven in at the knees and 
ankles, as if to split a log of wood. The choice of these 
two spots where there is least flesh, and where, in conse- 
quence, the wedge found room at the expense of the bones, 
made this form of torture horribly painful. In ordinary 


Catherine de’ Medici 149 


torture four wedges were driven in—two at the knees and 
two at the ankles ; in extraordinary torture as many as 
eight were employed, if the physician pronounced that 
the victim’s powers of endurance were not exhausted. 

At this period the boots were also applied to the hands ; 
but as time pressed, the Cardinal, the Lieutenant-General 
of the kingdom, and the Chancellor spared Christophe 
this. 

The preamble to the examination was written ; the pro- 
vost himself had dictated a few sentences, walking about 
' the room with a meditative air, and requiring Christophe 
to tell him his name—Christian name—age, and profes- 
sion ; then he asked him from whom he had received the 
papers he had delivered to the Queen. 

** From Chandieu the minister,” said he. 

** Where did he give them to you ?” 

«* At my own home in Paris.” 

«¢ When he handed them to you, he must have told you 
whether the Queen-mother would receive you well.” 

«« He told me nothing of the kind,” replied Christophe. 
“‘He only desired me to give them secretly to Queen 
Catherine.” . 

‘Then have you often seen Chaudieu, that he knew 
that you were coming here ?” 

“‘It was not from me that he heard that I was to carry 
the furs to the two Queens, and at the same time to ask 
in my father’s behalf for the money owed him by the 
Queen-mother ; nor had I time to ask him who had told 
him.” 

«« But those papers, given to you without any wrapper 
or seal, contain a treaty between the rebels and Queen 
Catherine. You must have known that they exposed you 
to the risk of suffering the punishment dealt out to those 
who are implicated in a rebellion.” 

"08." 

- Ihe persons who induced you to commit an act of - 


150 Catherine de’ Medici — 


high treason must have promised you some reward and the 
~ Queen-mother’s patronage.” 

*«T did it out of attachment to Chaudieu, the only per- 
son I saw.” . 

«Then you persist in declaring that you did ‘not see the 
Prince de Condé ?” 

dal Ge 

«Did not the Prince de Condé tell you that the Queen- 
mother was inclined to enter into his views in antagonism 
to the Guises ?” 

**T did not see him.” 

«Take care. One of your accomplices, la Renaudie, is 
arrested. Strong as he is, he could not resist the torture 
that awaits you, and at last confessed that he, as well as 
the Prince, had had speech with you. If you wish to es- 
cape the anguish of torture, I beg you to tell the simple 
truth. Then perhaps you may win your pardon.” 

Christophe replied that he could not tell anything of 
which he had no knowledge, nor betray accomplices, when 
he had none. On hearing this, the provost nodded to the 
executioner, and went back into the adjoining room. 

On seeing this, Christophe knit his brows, wrinkling 
his forehead with a nervous spasm, and preparing to 
endure. He clenched his fists with such a rigid clutch 
that the nails ran into the flesh without his feeling it. 
The three men took him up, carried him to the camp 
bed, and laid him there, his legs hanging down. While 
the executioner tied him fast with stout ropes, his two 
men each fitted a leg into a boot; the cords were tight- 
ened by means of a wrench without giving the victim any 
great pain. When each leg was thus held in a vice, the 
executioner took up his mallet and his wedges, and looked 
alternately at the sufferer and the clerk. 

«© To you persist in your denial ?” said the clerk. 

*T have told the truth,” replied Christophe. 

«Then go on,” said the clerk, shutting his eyes. 


Catherine de’ Medici _ 151 


The cords were tightened to the utmost, and this mo- 
ment, perhaps, was the most agonizing of all the torture ; 
the flesh was so suddenly compressed that the: blood was 
violently thrown back into the trunk. The poor boy 
could not help screaming terribly ; he seemed about to 
faint. The doctor was called back. He felt Christophe’s 
pulse, and desired the executioner to wait for a quarter of 
an hour before driving in the wedges, to give time for the 
blood to recover its circulation and sensation to return. 

The clerk charitably told Christophe that if he could 
not better endure even the beginnings of the suffering he 
could not escape, he would do better to reveal all he knew ; 
but Christophe’s only reply was— 

«<The King’s tailor ! the King’s tailor ! ” 

** What do you mean by saying that ?” asked the clerk. 

«‘ Foreseeing the torments I shall go through,” said 
Christophe, slowly, to gain time and to rest, ‘‘ I am sum- 
moning all my strength, and trying to reinforce it by re- 
membering the martyrdom endured for the sacred cause 
of the Reformation by the late King’s tailor, who was 
tortured in the presence of the King and of Madame de 
Valentinois ; I will try to be worthy of him!” 

While the physician was advising the hapless man not 
to drive his torturers to extremities, the Cardinal and the 
Duke, impatient to know the results of this examination, 
came in and desired Christophe to reveal the truth at 
once. The furrier’s son repeated the only confession he 
would allow himself to make, implicating nobody but 
Chanudienu. 

The Princes nodded. On this, the executioner and his 
foreman seized their mallets, each took a wedge and drove 
it home between the boots, one standing on the right, and 
the other on the left. The executioner stood at the knees, 
the assistant at the ankles, opposite. The eyes of the wit- 
nesses of this hideous act were fixed on Christophe’s, who, 
excited no doubt by the presence of these grand personages, 


152 Catherine de’ Medici 


flashed such a look at them that his eyes sparkled like 
flame. 

At the two next wedges a horrible groan escaped him. 
Then when he saw the men take up the wedges for the 
severer torture, he remained silent ; but his gaze assumed 
such dreadful fixity, and flashed at the two Princes such 
a piercing magnetic fluid, that the Duke and the Cardinal 
were both obliged to look down. Philippe le Bel had 
experienced the same defeat when he presided at the tor- 
ture by hammer, inflicted in his presence on the Templars. 
This consisted in hitting the victim on the chest with one 
arm of the balanced hammer used to coin money, which 
was covered with a leather pad. There was one knight 
whose eyes were so fixed on the King that he was fasci- 
nated, and could not take his gaze off the sufferer. At 
the third blow the King rose and went away, after hearing 
himself called upon to appear before the judgment of God 
within a year—as he did. 

At the fifth wedge, the first of the arene torture, 
Christope said to the Cardinal— 

‘* Out my misery short, Monseigneur ; it is useless.” 

The Cardinal and the Duke withdrew, and Christophe 
could hear from the next room these -words, spoken by 
Queen Catherine— 

«‘Go on, go on; after all, he is only a heretic!” 

She thought it prudent to appear more severe to her 
accomplice than his executioners were. 

The sixth and seventh wedge were driven in, and Chris-. 
tophe complained no more, his face shone with a strange 
radiance, due, no doubt, to the immense strength he de- 
rived from fanatical excitement. In what else but in 
feeling can we hope to find the fulcrum enabling. a man 
to endure such anguish ? At last, whem the executioner 
was about to insert the eighth wedge, Christophe smiled. 
This dreadful torment had lasted one hour. 

The clerk went to fetch the leech, to know whether 


Catherine de’ Medici eis 


the eighth wedge could be driven in without endangering 
the sufferer’s life. The Duke meanwhile came in again to 
see Christophe. 

‘« By our Lady! you are a fine fellow,” said he, lean- 
ing down to speak in his ear. ‘‘I like a brave man. 
Enter my service, you shall be happy and rich, my favors 
will heal your bruised limbs ; I will ask you to do nothing 
cowardly, like rejoining your own party to betray their 
plans ; there are always plenty of traitors, and the proof is 
to be found in the prisons of Blois. Only tell me on what 
terms are the Queen-mother and the Prince de Condé.” 

*‘T know nothing about it, Monseigneur,” cried Leca- 
mus. 

The doctor came in, examined the victim, and pro- 
nounced that he could bear the eighth wedge. 

“Drive it in,” said the Cardinal. <‘ After all, as the 
Queen says, he is only a heretic,” he added, with a hideous 
smile at Christophe. 

Catherine herself slowly came in from the adjoining 
room, stood in front of Christophe, and gazed at him 
coldly. She was the object of attentive scrutiny to the 
two brothers, who looked alternately at the Queen-mother 
and her accomplice. The whole future life of this ambi- 
tious woman depended on this solemn scrutiny; she felt 
the greatest admiration for Christophe’s courage, and she 
looked at him sternly; she hated the Guises, and she 
smiled upon them. 

Ue Come,” said she, ‘‘ young man, confess that you saw 
the Prince de Condé ; you will be well rewarded.” 

‘Oh, Madame, what a part you are edn cried 
Christophe, in pity for her. 

The Queen started. 

“‘ He is insulting me! Is he not to be hanged ?” said 
she to the two brothers, who stood lost in thought. 

‘¢ What a woman !” cried the Grand Master, who was 
consulting his brother in the window recess, 


154 Catherine de’ Medici 


‘<I will stay in France and be revenged,” thought the 
Queen. ‘‘ Proceed, he must confess or let him die!” she 
. exclaimed, addressing Monsieur de. Montrésor. 

The provost turned away, the executioners were busy, 
Catherine had an opportunity of giving the martyr a look, 
which no one else saw, and which fell like dew on Chris- 
tophe. ‘The great Queen’s eyes seemed to glisten with 
moisture ; they were, in fact, full of tears, two tears at 
once repressed and dry. ‘The wedge was driven home, one 
of the boards between which it was inserted split. Chris- 
tophe uttered a piercing cry ; then his face became radiant; 
he thought he was dying. 

‘Let him die,” said the Cardinal, echoing Queen 
Catherine’s words with a sort of irony. ‘‘ No, no,” he 
added to the provost, ‘‘ do not let us lose this clue.” 

The Duke and the Cardinal held a consultation in a low 
voice. 

<« What is to be done with him ?” asked the executioner. 

‘Send him to prison at Orleans,” said the Duke.— 
«* And, above all,” he said to Monsieur de Montrésor, ‘‘ do 
not hang him without orders from me.” 

The excessive sensitiveness of every internal organ, 
strung to the highest pitch by the endurance which worked 
upon every nerve in his frame, no less affected every sense 
in Christophe. Healone heard these words spoken by the 
Duc de Guise in the Cardinal’s ear— 

“‘T have not given up all hope of hearing the truth from 
this little man.” 

As soon as the two Princes had left the room, the exe- 
cutioners unpacked the victim’s legs, with no attempt at 
gentle handling. 

«Did you ever see acriminal with such fortitude ?” 
said the head man to his assistants. The rogue has 
lived through the infliction of the eighth wedge; he 
ought to have died. Iam the loser of the price of his 
body.” 


Catherine de’ Medici | 155 


** Untie me without hurting me, my good friends,” said 
poor Christophe. ‘‘ Some day I will reward you.” 

“Come, show some humanity,” said the doctor. 
‘‘Monseigneur the Duke esteems the young man, and 
commended him to my care,” cried the leech. 

“‘Tam off to Amboise with my men,” said the execu- 
tioner roughly. ‘Take care of him yourself. .And here 
~ is the jailer.” 

The executioner went off, leaving Christophe in the 
hands of the smooth-spoken doctor, who, with the help 
of Christophe’s warder, lifted him on to a bed, gave him 
some broth, which he made him swallow, sat down by his 
side, felt his pulse, and tried to comfort him. 

“You are not dying,” he said, ‘‘and you must feel a 
comfort to your mind when you reflect that you have done 
your duty. The Queen charged me to take good care of 
you,” he added, in a low voice. 

**The Queen is very good,” said Christophe, in whom 
acute anguish had developed wonderful lucidity of mind, 
and who, after enduring so much, was determined not to 
spoil the results of his devotion. ‘‘ But she might have 
saved me so much suffering by not delivering me to my 
tormentors, and by telling them herself the secrets, of 
which I know nothing.” 

On hearing this reply, the doctor put on his cap and ~ 
cloak and left Christophe to his fate, thinking it vain to 
hope to gain anything from aman of that temper. The 
jailer had the poor boy carried on a litter by four men 
to the town prison, where Christophe fell asleep, in that - 
deep slumber which, it is said, comes upon almost every 
mother after the dreadful pains of childbirth. 


The two Princes of Lorraine, when they transferred the 
Court to Amboise, had no hope of finding there the leader 
of the Reformed party, the Prince de Condé, whom they 
had ordered to appear in the King’s name to take him in 


156 Catherine de’ Medici 


asnare, Asa vassal of the Crown, and as a Prince of the 
Blood, Condé was bound to obey the behest of the King. 
Not to come to Amboise would be a felony ; but, by com- 
ing, he would place himself in the power of the Crown. 
Now, at this moment, the Crown, the Council, the Court, 
_ and every kind of power, were in the hands of the Duc de 
Guise and the Cardinal de Lorraine. | 

In this difficult dilemma, the Prince de Condé showed 
the spirit of decisiveness and astuteness, which made him 
a worthy representative of Jeanne d’Albret and the braye 
General of the Reformers’ forces. He traveled at the heels 
of the last conspirators to Vendéme to support them in case 
of success. But when this first rush to arms ended in the 
brief skirmish in which the flower of the nobility whom Cal- 
vin had misled all perished, the Prince, and a following of 
fifty gentlemen, arrived at the chatean d’Amboise the very 
day after this affair, which the Guises, with crafty policy, 
spoke of as the riots at Amboise. On hearing of the 
. Prince’s advance, the Duke sent out the Maréchal de Saint- 
André to receive him with an escort of a hundred men-at- 
arms. When the Béarnais came to the gate of the chateau, 
the marshal in command refused to admit the Prince’s 
suite. 

““You must come in alone, sir,” said the Chancellor 
Olivier, Cardinal de Tournon, and Birague, who awaited 
him outside the portcullis. 

«* And why ?” 

«“ You are suspected of felony,” replied the Chancellor. 

The Prince, who saw that his party was being cut off 
by the Duc de Nemours, quietly replied— 

‘‘ Tf that is the case, I will go in to my cousin alone and 
prove my innocence.” . 

He dismounted and conversed with perfect freedom 
with Birague, Tournon, the Chancellor Olivier, and the 
Duc de Nemours, from whom he asked details of the riot. 

‘¢ Monseigneur,” said the Duc de Nemours, “ the rebels 


Catherine: de’ Medici 157 


had sympathizers inside Amboise. Captain Lanoue had 
got in some men-at-arms, who opened the gate to them 
through which they got into the town, and of which they 
had the command——” 

«That is to say, you got them into a sack,” replied the 
Prince, looking at Birague. 

“Tf they had been supported by the attack that was to 
have been made on the Porte des Bons-Hommes by Cap- 
tain Chaudieu, the preacher’s brother, they would have 
succeeded,” said the Duc de Nemours, ‘‘ but, from the 
position I had taken up, in obedience to the Duc de Guise, 
Captain Chaudieu was obliged to make 9 detour to avoid 
fighting me. Instead of arriving at night like the rest, 
that rebel did not come up till daybreak, just as the King’s 
troops had crushed those who had got into the town.” 

«* And you had a reserve to recapture the gate that had 
been given up to them ?” 

‘* Monsieur le Maréchal de Saint-André was on the spot 
with five hundred men.” 

The Prince warmly praised these military maneuvers. 

“To have acted thus,” said he in conclusion, ‘‘ the 
Lieutenant-General must have known the Reformers’ 
secrets. They have evidently been betrayed.” 

The Prince was treated with greater strictness at each 
step. After being parted from his followers on entering 
the chateau, the Cardinal and the Chancellor stood in his 
way when he turned to the stairs leading to the King’s 
apartments. 

‘¢ We are instructed by the King, sir, to conduct you to 
your own rooms.” 

‘¢ Am I then a prisoner ?” 

‘‘Tf that were the King’s purpose, you would not be 
attended by a Prince of the Church and by me,” replied 
the Chancellor. 

The two functionaries led the Prince to an apartment 
where a guard—of honor so called—was allotted to him, 


158 Catherine de’ Medici 


and where he remained for several hours without seeing 
any one. From his window he looked out on the Loire, 
the rich country which makes such a beautiful valley be- 
tween Amboise and Tours, and he was meditating on his 
situation, wondering what the Guises might dare to do 
to his person, when he heard the door of his room open; 
and saw the King’s fool come in, Chicot, who had once 
been in his service. 

*T heard you were in disgrace,” said the prince. 

**You cannot think how sober the Court has become 
since the death of Henri II.” 

«¢ And yet the King loves to laugh, surely.” 

“Which King ? Francis II. or Francis of Lorraine ?” 

‘© Are you so fearless of the Duke that you speak 
go?” 

<¢ He will not punish me for that, Sir,” replied Chicot, 
smiling. 

«© And to what do I owe the honor of this visit ?” 

«*Was it not due to you after your coming here? I 
have brought you my cap and bauble.” 

“*T cannot get out then ?” 

Tey 1”? 

«« And if I do get out ?” 

“«T will confess that you have won the game by playing 
against the rules.” 

“* Chicot, you frighten me.—Have you been sent by some 
one who is interested in my fate ?” 

Chicot nodded ‘‘ Yes.” He went nearer to the Prince, 
and conveyed to him that they were watched and over- 
heard. 

‘What have you to say to me?” asked Monsieur de 
Condé. 

‘*That nothing but daring can get you out of the 
scrape,” said the fool, whispering the words into his ear. 
«* And this is from the Queen-mother.” 

«* Tell those who have sent you,” replied the Prince, 


tf 


Catherine de’ Medici 159 


‘that I should never have come to this chateau if I had 
anything to blame myself for, or to fear.” 

‘«T fly to carry your bold reply,” said the fool. 

Two hours later, at one in the afternoon, before the 
King’s dinner, the Chancellor and Cardinal de Tournon 
came to fetch the Prince to conduct him to Francis II. in 
the great hall where the Council had sat. There, before 
all the Court, the Prince de Condé affected surprise at the 
cool reception the King had given him, and he asked the 
reason. 

** You are accused, cousin,” said the Queen-mother 
sternly, ‘‘of having meddled with the plots of the Re- 
formers, and you must prove yourself a faithful subject 
and a good Catholic if you wish to avert the King’s anger 
from your House.” 

On hearing this speech, spoken by Catherine in the 
midst of hushed silence, as she stood with her hand in the 
King’s arm and with the Duc d’Orléans on her left hand, 
the Prince de Condé drew back three steps, and with an 
impulse of dignified pride laid his hand on his sword, 
looking at the persons present. 

**Those who say so, Madame, lie in their throat!” he 
exclaimed in angry tones. 

He flung his glove at the King’s feet, saying— 

**Let the man who will maintain his calumny stand 
forth !” 

A shiver ran through the whole Court when the Duc de - 
Guise was seen to quit his place ; but instead of picking 
up the glove as they expected, he went up to the intrepid 
hunchback. 

*«Tf you need a second, Prince, I beg of you to accept 
my services,” said he. ‘‘I will answer for you, and will 
show the Reformers how greatly they deceive themselves 
if they hope to have you for their leader.” 

The Prince de Condé could not help offering his 
hand to the Lieutenant-General of the kingdom. Chicot 


1666/9. Catherine de’ Medici 


picked up the glove and restored it to Monsieur de 
Condé. 

**Oousin,” said the boy-King, ‘‘ you should never draw 

your sword but in defense of your country.—Come to 
' dinner.” 

The Cardinal de Lorraine, puzzled by his brother’s 
action, led him offto their rooms. The Prince de Condé, 
having weathered the worst danger, gave his hand to 
Queen Mary Stewart to lead her to the dining-room ; but, 
while making flattering speeches to the young Queen, he 
was trying to discern what snare was at this moment being 
laid for him by the Balafré’s policy. In vain he racked 
his brain, he could not divine the Guises’ scheme; but 
Queen Mary betrayed it. 

**It would have been a pity,” said she, laughing, “to 

gee so clever a head fall; you must allow that my uncle 
is magnanimous.” 

«Yes, Madame, for my head fits no shoulders but my 
own, although one is larger than the other.—But is it 
magnanimity in your uncle? Has he not rather gained 
credit at a cheap rate? Do yon think it such an easy ~ 
matter to have the law of a Prince of the Blood ?” 

«< We have not done yet,” replied she. ‘‘ We shall see 
how you behave at the execution of the gentlemen, your 
friends, over which the Council have determined to make 
the greatest display.” 

“7 shall do as the King does,” said Condé. 

«« The King, the Queen-mother, and I shall all be present, 
with all the Court and the Ambassadors——” 

“Quite a high day ?” said the Prince ironically. 

‘« Better than that,” said the young Queen, “an auto- 
da-fé, a function of high political purport. The gentle- 
men of France must be subjugated by the Crown; they 
must be cured of their taste for faction and manenver- 
ing: o 

‘‘You will not eure them of their warlike temper by 


39 





Catherine de’ Medici 164 


showing them their danger, Madame, and at this game you 
risk the Crown itself,” replied the Prince. 

At the end of this dinner, which was gloomy enough, 
Queen Mary was so unfortunately daring as to turn the 
conversation publicly on the trial which the nobles, taken 
under arms, were at that moment undergoing, and to speak 
of the necessity for giving the utmost solemnity to their 
execution. 

“«« But, Madame,” said Francis II., “is itnot enough for 
the King of France to know that the blood of so many brave 
gentlemen must beshed? Must it beacause of triumph?” 

“No, Sir, but an example,” replied Catherine. 

**Your grandfather and your father were in the habit 
of seeing heretics burned,” said Mary Stewart. 

«‘ The kings, who reigned before oA went their way,” 
said Francis, ‘‘and I mean to go mine.’ 

‘* Philip II.,” Catherine went on, ‘‘ whois a great king, 
lately, when he was in the Netherlands, had an auto-da-fé 
postponed till he should have returned to Valladolid.” 

“‘ What do you think about it, cousin ?” said the King 
to the Prince de Condé. 

**Sir, you cannot avoid going ; the Papal Nuncio and 


the Ambassadors must be present. For my part, I am 


delighted to go if the ladies are to be of the party.” 

The Prince, at a glance from Catherine de’ Medici, had 
boldly taken his line. 

While the Prince de Condé was being admitted to the 
chateau of Amboise, the furrier to the two Queens was 
also arriving from Paris, brought thither by the uneasiness 
produced by the reports of the Rebellion, not only in him- 
self and his family, but also in the Lalliers. 


At the gate of the chiteau, when the old man craved | 


admission, the captain of the Guard, at the words “‘ Queen’s 
furrier,” answered at once— 
“«My good man, if you want to be hanged, yon have 
only to set foot in the courtyard,” 
1S | 


| 


162 - Catherine de’ Medici 


On hearing this, the unhappy father sat down on a rail 
a little way off, to wait till some attendant on either of the 
Queens, or some woman of the Court, should pass him, to 
ask for some news of his son; but he remained there the 
whole day without seeing anybody he knew, and was at 
last obliged to go down into the town, where he found a 
lodging, not without difficulty, in an inn on the Square 
where the executions were to take place. He was obliged 
to pay a livre a day to secure a room looking out on the 
Square. | 

On the following day, he was brave enough to look on 
from his window at the rebels who had been condemned 
to the wheel, or to be hanged, as men of minor impor- 
tance; and the Syndic of the Furriers’ Guild was glad 
enough not to find his son among the sufferers. 

When it was all over, he went to place himself in the 
clerk’s way. Having mentioned his name, and pressed a 
purse full of crown-pieces into the man’s hand, he begged 
him to see whether, in the three former days of execution, 
the name of Christophe Lecamus had occurred. The 
registrar, touched by the despairing old father’s manners 
and tone of voice, conducted him to his own house. After 
carefully comparing notes, he could assure the old man 
that the said Christophe was not among those who had 
hitherto been executed, nor was he named among those 
who were to die within the next few days. 

** My dear master,” said the clerk to the furrier, ‘‘ the 
Parlement is now engaged in trying the lords and gentle- 
men concerned in the business, and the principal leaders. 
So, possibly, your son is imprisoned in the chateau, and 
will be one in the magnificent execution for which my 
Lords the Duc de Guise and the Cardinal de Lorraine are 
making great preparations. ‘Twenty-seven barons are to 
be beheaded, with eleven counts and seven marquises, fifty 
gentlemen in all, and leaders of the Reformers. As the 
administration of justice in Touraine has no connection 


Catherine de’ Medici 163 


with that of the Paris Parlement, if you positively must 
have some news of your son, go to my Lord the Chancellor 
Olivier, who, by the orders of the Lieutenant-General of 
‘the kingdom, has the management of the proceedings.” 

Three times did the poor old man’ go to the Chancellor’s 
house and stand in a file of people in the courtyard, in 
common with animmense number of people who had come 
to pray for their relations’ lives ; but as titled folks were 
admitted before the middle class, he was obliged to give 
up all hope of speaking with the Chancellor, though he 
saw him several times coming out of his house to go either 
to the chateau or to the commission appointed by the 
Parlement, along a way cleared for him by soldiers, 
between two hedges of petitioners who were thrust aside. 

It was a dreadful scene of misery, for among this crowd 
were wives, daughters, and mothers, whole families in 
tears. Old Lecamus gave a great deal of gold to the 
servants at the chateau, enjoining on them that they 
should deliver certain letters he wrote to la Dayelle, Queen 
Mary’s waiting-woman, or to the Queen;mother’s woman ; 
but the lackeys took the good man’s money, and then, by 
the Cardinal’s orders, handed all letters to the Provost of 
the Law Court. As a consequence of their unprecedented 
cruelty, the Princes of Lorraine had cause to fear revenge ; 
and they never took greater precautions than during the 
stay of the Court at Amboise, so that neither the most 
effectual bribery, that of gold, nor the most diligent in- 
quiries brought the furrier any light as to his son’s fate. 
He wandered about the little town ina melancholy way, 
watching the tremendous preparations that the Cardinal 
was making for the shocking spectacle at which the Prince 
de Condé was to be present. 

Public curiosity was being stimulated, by every means 
in use at the time, from Paris to Nantes. The execution 
had been announced from the pulpit by every preacher, in 
a breath with the King’s victory over the heretics. 


164 Catherine de’ Medici 


’ Three elegant stands, the center one apparently to be 

the finest of the three, were being erected against the 
curtain-wall of the chateau, at the foot of which the ex- 
ecution was to take place. All round the open space 
raised wooden seats were being put up, after the fashion 
of an amphitheater, to accommodate the enormous crowd 
attracted by the notoriety of this awto-da-fe. About ten 
thousand persons were camping out in the fields on the 
day before this hideous spectacle. The roofs were crowded 
with spectators, and windows were let for as much as ten 
livres, an enormous sum at that time. 

The unhappy father had, as may be supposed, secured 
one of the best places for commanding a view of the Square 
where so many men of family were to perish, on a huge 
scaffold erected in the middle, and covered with black 
cloth. On the morning of the fatal day, the headsman’s 
block, on which the victim laid his head, kneeling in front 
of it, was placed on the scaffold, and an armchair, hung 
with black, for the Recorder of the Court, whose duty it 
was to call the condemned by name and read their sen- 
tence. The enclosure was. guarded from early morning 
by the Scotch soldiers and the men-at-arms of the king’s 
household, to keep the crowd out till the hour of the ex- 
ecutions. 

After a solemn Mass in the chapel of the chateau and 
in every church in the town, the gentlemen were led forth, 
the last survivors of all the conspirators. ‘These men, 
some of whom had been through the torture cham- 
ber, were collected round the foot of the scaffold, and ex- 
horted by monks, who strove to persuade them to re- 
nounce the doctrines of Calvin. But not one would listen 
to these preachers, turned on to them by the Cardinal de 
Lorraine, among whom, no doubt, these gentlemen feared 
_ there might be some spies on behalf of the Guises. 

To escape being persecuted with these exhortations, they 
began to sing a psalm turned into French verse by 


Catherine de’ Medici 165 


Clément Marot. Calvin, as is well known, had decreed 
that God should be worshiped in the mother tongue of 
every country, from motives of common sense as well as 
from antagonism to the Roman Church. It was a pathetic 
moment for all those among the throng, who felt for these 
gentlemen, when they heard this verse sung at the moment 

when the Court appeared on the scene— 


** Lord help us in our need ! 
Lord, bless us with Thy grace! 
And on the saints in sore distress 
Let shine Thy glorious face!” 


The eyes of the Reformers all centered on the Prince de 
Condé, who was intentionally placed between Queen Mary 
and the Duc d’Orléans. Queen Catherine de’ Medici sat 
next her son, with the Cardinal on her left. The Papal. 
Nuncio stood behind the two Queens. The Lieutenant- 
General of the kingdom was on horseback, below the Royal 
stand, with two marshals of France and his captains. As 
soon as the Prince de Condé appeared, all the gentlemen 

sentenced to death, to whom he was known, bowed to him, 
and the brave hunchback returned the salutation. 

‘‘Tt is hard,” said he to the Duc d’Orléans, “‘ not to be 
civil to men who are about to die.” 

The two other grand stands were filled by invited guests, 
by courtiers, and the attendants on their Majesties; in 
short, the rank and fashion of the chAteaufrom Blois, who 
thus rushed from festivities to executions, just as they 
afterwards rushed from the pleasures of Court life to the 
perils of war, with a readiness which to foreigners will al- 
ways be one of the mainsprings of their policy in France. 
The poor Syndic of the Furriers’ Guild felt the keenest 
joy at failing to discern hisson among the fifty-seven gen- 
tlemen condemned to death. 

At a signal from the Duc de Guise, the clerk, from the 
top of the scaffold, called out at once, in a loud yoice— 


166 Catherine de’ Medici 


«* Jean-Louis-Albéric, Baron de Raunay, guilty of heresy, 
of the crime of high treason, and of bearing arms against 
the King’s Majesty.” 

A tall, handsome man mounted the scaffold with a firm 
step, bowed to the people and to the Court, and said— 

‘*The indictment is false; I bore arms to deliver the 


' King from his enemies of Lorraine !” 


He laid his head on the block, and it fell. 
The Reformers sang— 


“Thou, Lord, hast proved our faith 
And searched our soul’s desire, 
And purified our froward hearts, 
As silver proved by fire.” 


*« Robert-Jean-René Briquemaut, Comte de Viilemon- 
gis, guilty of high treason and rebellion against the King,” 
cried the Recorder. 

The Count dipped his hands in the Baron de Raunay’s 
blood, and said— 

*¢ May this blood be on the head of those who are truly 


~ guilty!” 


The Reformers sang on— 


**Thou, Lord, hast led our feet 
Where foes had laid their snare; 
To Thee, O Lord, the glory be, 
Though we should perish there.” 


“‘ Confess, my lord Nuncio,” said the Prince de Condé, 
«that if French gentlemen know how to plot, they also 
know how to die.” 

«‘ What hatred you are entailing on the heads of your 
children, brother,” said the Duchesse de Guise to the Car- 
dinal de Lorraine. 

«‘ The sight makes me feel sick,” said the young King, 
who had turned pale at the sight of all this bloodshed. 

**Pooh! Rebels!” said Catherine de’ Medici. 

Still the hymn went on, still the ax was plied. At last 


Catherine de’ Medici 167 


the sublime spectacle of men who could die singing, and, 
above all, the impression produced on the crowd by the 
gradual dwindling of the voices, became stronger than the 
terror inspired by the Guises. 

** Mercy !” cried the mob, when they heard at last only 
the feeble chant of a single victim, reserved till the last as 
being the most important. 

He was standing alone at the foot of the steps leading up 
to the scaffold, and sang— 

‘Lord, help us in our need ! 
Lord, bless us with Thy grace ! 
And on the saints in sore distress 
Let shine Thy glorious face!” 

<‘Come, Duc de Nemours,” said the Prince de Condé, 
who was tired of his position ; ‘‘ you, to whom the secur- 
ing of the victory is due, and who helped to entrap all 
these people,—do not you feel that you ought to ask the 
life of this one? It is Castelnau, who, as I was told, had 
your promise for courteous treatment when he surren- 
dered——” 

‘Did I wait to see him here before trying to save him ?” 
said the Duc de Nemours, stung by this bitter reproof. 

The clerk spoke slowly, intentionally, no doubt— 

‘* Michel-Jean-Louis, Baron de Castelnau-Chalosse, 
accused and convicted of the crime of high treason, and of 
fighting against his Majesty the King.” 

‘*No,” retorted Castelnau haughtily; ‘‘it can be no 
crime to oppose the tyranny and intended usurpation of 
the Guises !” 

The headsman, who was tired, seeing some stir in the 
royal seats, rested on his ax. 

‘* Monsieur le Baron,” said he, ‘I should be glad not 
to hurt you. One minute may perhaps save you.” 

And all the people shouted again for mercy. 

‘* Come,” said the King, ‘‘a pardon for poor Castelnan, 
who saved the Duc de Orléans,” 


168 Catherine de’ Medici | 


The Cardinal intentionally misinterpreted the word 
“Come.” He nodded to the executioner, and Castelnau’s 
head fell at the moment when the King pronounced his 
pardon. 

«That one goes to your account, Cardinal,” said Cath- 
erine. 

On the day after this horrible massacre, the Prince de 
Condé set out for Navarre. 

This affair made a great sensation throughout France 

and in every foreign Court. The torrents of noble blood 
then shed caused the Chancellor Olivier such deep grief, that 
this admirable judge, seeing the end at which the Guises 
were aiming, felt that he was not strong enough to hold his 
own against them. Although they had made him what he 
was, he would not sacrifice his duty and the Monarchy to 
them ; he retired from public life, suggesting that l’Hépi- 
tal should be his successor. Catherine, on hearing of 
Olivier’s choice, proposed Birague for the post of Chan- 
cellor, and urged her request with great pertinacity. The 
Cardinal, who knew nothing of the note written to Cath- 
erine by l’H6pital, and who believed him still faithful to 
the House of Lorraine, upheld him as Birague’s rival, and 
the Queen-mother affected to be over-ridden. 

L’Hépital was no sooner appointed than he took steps 
to prevent the introduction into France of the Holy Office, 
which the Cardinal de Lorraine wished to establish ; and 
he so effectually opposed the Anti-Gallican measures and 
policy of the Guises, and showed himself so sturdy a 
Frenchman, that within three months of his appointment 
he was exiled, to reduce his spirit, to his estate of le Vignay, 
near Etampes. 

Old Lecamus impatiently waited till the Court should 
leave Amboise, for he could find no opportunity of speak- 
ing to either Queen Mary or Queen Catherine ; but he 
hoped to be able to place himself in their way at the time 
when the Court should be moving along the river-bank on 


Catherine de’ Medici 169 


the way back to Blois. The furrier dressed himself as a 
poor man, at the risk of being seized as a spy, and favored 
by this disguise, he mingled with the beggars who stood 
by the wayside. 

After the departure of the Prince de Condé, the Duke 
and the Cardinal thought that they had silenced the Re- 
formed party, and they left the Queen-mother a little more 
liberty. Lecamus knew that Catherine, instead of travel- 
ing in a litter, liked to ride on horseback on a planchette, 
as it was called, a side saddle with a foot-rest. This sort 
of stirrup was invented by or for Catherine, who, having 
hurt her leg, rested both feet on a velvet sling, sitting 
sideways, and supporting one knee in a hollow cut in the 
saddle. As the Queen had very fine legs, she was accused © 
of having hit on this device for.displaying them. 

Thus the old man was able to place himself in sight 
of the Queen-mother ; but when she saw him, she affected 
anger. 

‘©Go away from hence, good man, and let no one see 
you speaking to me,” she said with some anxiety. ‘‘ Get 
yourself appointed delegate to the States-General from the 
corporation of Paris Guilds, and be on my side in the 
Assembly at Orleans, you will then hear something definite 
about your son é 

“‘Tg he alive 2?” said the old man. 

«‘ Alas!” said the Queen, “I hope it.” 

And Lecamus was obliged to return home with this sad 
reply, and the secret as to the convocation of the States- 
General, which the Queen had told him. 





Some days before this, the Cardinal de Lorraine had 
received information as to the guilt of the Court of 
Navarre. At Lyons, and at Mouvans in Dauphiné, the 
Reformers, commanded by the most enterprising of the 
Bourbon princes, had tried to inflame the population. 
This daring attempt, after the dreadful executions at 


170 Catherine de’ Medici 


Amboise, astonished the Guises, who, to put an end to 
heresy, no doubt, by some means of which they kept the 
secret, proposed to assemble the States-General at Orleans. 
Catherine de’ Medici, who saw a support for her own 
policy in the representations of the nation, consented with 
joy. The Cardinal, who aimed at recapturing his prey, 
and overthrowing the House of Bourbon, conyoked the 
States solely to secure the presence of the Prince de Condé 
and of the King of Navarre, Antoine de Bourbon, father 
of Henri IV. He then meant to make use of Christophe 
to convict the Prince of high treason if he were able once 
more to get him into the King’s power. 

After spending two months in the prison of Blois, 
Christophe one morning was carried out on a litter lying 
on a mattress, was embarked ona barge, and taken up the 
river to Orleans before a westerly breeze. He reached that 
town the same evening, and was taken to the famous tower 
of Saint-Aignan. Christophe, who knew not what to make 
of his transfer, had time enough for meditation on his 
behavior and on his future prospects. There he remained 
two months more, on his bed, unable to use his legs. 
His bones were crushed. When he begged to be allowed 
the help of a surgeon, the jailer told him that his orders 
with regard to his prisoner *were sostrict that he dared not 
allow any one else even to bring him his food. This 
severity, of which the effect was absolutely solitary con- 
finement, surprised Christophe. His idea was that he 
mutst be either hanged or released ; he knew nothing what- 
ever of the events happening at Amboise. 

In spite of the secret warnings to remain at home sent 
to them by Catherine de’ Medici, the two chiefs of the 
- House of Bourbon determined to appear at the meeting 
of the States-General, since autograph letters from the 
King were reassuring ; and when the Court was settling 
at Orleans, Groslot, the Chancellor of Navarre, announced 
their advent, to the surprise of all. 


Catherine de’ Medici eee 171 


Francis IT. took up his quarters in the house of the 
Chancellor of Navarre, who was also the Bailli or Recorder 
of Orleans. This man Groslot, whose double appointment 
is one of the odd features of a time when Reformers were 
in possession of abbeys—Groslot, the Jacques Cour of 
Orleans, one of the richest citizens of his day, did not leave 


his name to his house. It came to’ be known as the 


Bailliage, having been purchased, no doubt, from his 


heirs, by the Crown, or by the provincial authorities, to be 


the seat of that tribunal. This elegant structure, built by 
the citizens of the sixteenth century, adds a detail to the 
history of a time when the King, the nobility, and the 
middle class vied with each other in wealth, elegance, and 
splendor ; especially in their dwellings—as may be seen at 
Varangeville, Ango’s magnificent manor-house, and the 
Hétel d’Hercules, as it is called, in Paris, which still 
exists, but in a condition that is the despair of archzolo- 
gists and of lovers of medieval art. 

Those who have been to Orleans can hardly have failed 
to observe the Hétel de Ville in the Place de l’Estape. 
This townhall isthe Old Bailli’s Court, the Hétel Groslot, 
the most illustrious and most neglected house in Orleans. 

The remains of this hotel plainly show to the arche- 
ologist’s eye how magnificent it must once have been, at a 
time when citizens built their houses more of wood than 
of stone, and the upper ranks alone had the right to build 
manor-houses, a word of special meaning. Since it served 
as the King’s residence at a time when the Court made so 
much display of pomp and luxury, the Hotel Groslot 
must then have been the largest and finest house in 
Orleans. 

It was on the Place de l’Estape that the Guises and 
the King held a review of the municipal guard, to which 
Monsieur de Cypierre was nominated captain during the 
King’s visit. At that time, the Cathedral of Sainte-Croix 
—afterwards finished by Henri IV., who desired to set the 


172 Catherine de’ Medici 


seal to his conversion—was being built, and the surround- 
ing ground, strewn with blocks of stone and encumbered 
with piles of timber, was held by the Guises, who lodged 
in the Bishop’s palace, now destroyed. 

_ ‘The town was in military occupation, and the measures 
'. adopted by the Guises plainly showed how little liberty 
they intended to’give to the States-General, while the 
delegates flocked into the town and raised the rents of 
the most wretched lodgings. The Court, the municipal 
militia, the nobles, and the citizens all alike expected 
‘some Coup d’Hiat ; and their expectations were fulfilled 
when the Princes of the Blood arrived. 

As soon as the two Princes entered the King’s room, 
the Court saw with dismay how insolent was the behavior 
of the Cardinal de Lorraine, who, to assert his audacious 
pretensions, kept his head covered, while the King of 
Navarre before him was bareheaded. Catherine de’ 
Medici stood with downcast eyes, not to betray her indig- 
nation. A solemn explanation then took place between 
‘the young King and the two heads of the younger branch. 
It was brief, for at the first words spoken by the Prince de 
Condé, Francis II. closed the discussion by saying— 

“«My lords and cousins, I fancied the incident of 
Amboise was at an end; it is not so, and we shall see 
cause to regret our indulgence !” 

‘Tt is not the King who speaks thus,” said the Prince 
de Condé, ** but Messieurs de Guise.” 

“‘Good-day, Monsieur,” said the little King, crimson 
with rage. 

As he went through the great hall, the Prince was 
stopped by the two captains of the Guards. When the 
officer of the French Guard stepped forward, the Prince 
took a letter out of the breast of his doublet and said, in 
the presence of all the Court— 

«© Can you read me this, Monsieur de Maillé-Brézé ?” 

‘* With pleasure,” said the French captain :— 


Catherine de’ Medici 178 


«Cousin, come in all security ; I give you my royal 
_ word that you may. If you need a safe conduct, these 
_ presents will serve you.’” 


«And signed—— ?” said the bold and mischievous 
_ hunchback. 

“* Signed ‘ Francois !’” said Maillé. 

“‘ Nay, nay,” replied the Prince, ‘it is signed ‘ Your 
good. cousin and friend, Francois !—Gentlemen,” he 
went on, turning to the Scotch Guard, *‘ I will follow you 
to the prison whither you are to escort me by the King’s 
orders. There is enough noble spirit in this room to un- 
derstand that.” 

The utter silence that reigned in the room might have 
enlightened the Guises, but silence is the last thing that 
princes listen to. 

‘© Monseigneur,” said the Cardinal de Tournon, who 
was following the Prince, “‘ since the day at Amboise you 
have taken steps in opposition to the royal authority. at 
Lyons and at Mouvans in Dauphiné—things of which the 
King knew nothing when he addressed you in those 
terms,” 

“Rascals!” cried the Prince, laughing. 

“‘ You made a public declaration against the Mass, and 
in favor of heresy ——” 

«< We are masters in Navarre,” said the Prince. 

‘In Béarn, you mean! But you owe homage to the 
Crown,” replied the Président de Thou. 

«* Ah, you are here, Président!” exclaimed the Prince 
ironically. ‘* And is all the Parlement with you ?” 

With these words, the Prince flashed a look of contempt 
at the Cardinal and left the room ; he understood that his 
head was in peril. 

On the following day, when Messieurs de Thou, de 
Viole, d’Espesse, Bourdin the public prosecutor, andidu 
Tillet, the chief clerk, came into his prison, he kept them 


174 Catherine de’ Medici 


standing, and expressed his regrets at seeing them engaged 
on a business which did not concern them ; then he said 
to the clerk— 

«‘ Write.” 

And he dictated as follows :— 

«©T, Louis de Bourbon, Prince de Condé, peer of the 
realm, Marquis de Conti, Comte de Soissons, Prince of 
the Blood of France, formally refuse to recognize any 
Commission appointed to try me, inasmuch as that by 
virtue of my rank and the privileges attaching to every 
member of the Royal Family, I can only be attainted, 
heard, and judged by a Parlement of all the peers in their 
places, the Chambers in full assembly, and the King 
seated on the bed of justice.—You ought to know this 
better than any one, gentlemen, and this is all you will get 
of me. For the rest, I trust in God and my Right.” 

The magistrates proceeded nevertheless, in spite of the 
determined silence of the Prince. 

The King of Navarre was at liberty, but closely watched; 
his prison was a wider one than the Prince’s, and that was 
the whole difference between his position and his brother’s ; 
for the heads of the King and the Prince were to be felled at 
the same time. 

So Christophe was so closely confined by order of the 
Cardinal and the Lieutenant-General of the kingdom 
only to afford proof to the judges of the Prince’s guilt. 
The letters found on the person of La Sagne, the Prince’s 
secretary, intelligible toastatesman, were not clear enough 
for the judges. The Cardinal had thought of bringing 
the Prince accidentally face to face with Christophe, who 
had been placed, not without a purpose, in a lower room 
of the tower of Saint-Aignan, and the window looked out 
on the yard. Each time he was examined by the magis- 
trates, Christophe entrenched himself in systematic denial, 
which naturally prolonged the affair till the meeting of 
the States-General, 


Catherine de’ Medici 175 


| Lecamus, who had made a point of getting himself 
elected by the citizens of Paris as a deputy for the “Third 
Estate,” came to Orleans a few days after the Prince’s 
arrest. This event, of which he had news at Etampes, 
increased his alarms, for he understood—he who alone in 
the world knew of his son’s interview with the Prince 
under the Pont+au-Change—that Christophe’s fate was 
bound up with that of the rashly daring head of the Ref- 
ormation party. So he determined to study the myste- 
rious interests which had become so entangled at Court 
since the States had met, so as to hit upon some plan for 
rescuing his son. It was vain to think of having recourse 
to Queen Catherine, who refused to receive the furrier. 
No one of the Court to whom he had access could give 
him any satisfactory information with regard to Christophe, 
and he had sunk to such depths of despair that he was 
about to address himself to the Cardinal, when he heard 
that Monsieur de Thou had accepted the office of one of the 
judges of the Prince de Condé—a blot on the good fame of 
that great jurist. The Syndic went to call on his son’s pa- 
tron, and learned that Christophe was alive but a prisoner. 

Tourillon, the glover, to whose house la Renaudie had 
sent Christophe, had offered a room to the Sieur Lecamus 
for the whole time during which the States-General should 
be sitting. He believed the furrier to be, like himself, 
secretly attached to the Reformed religion ; but he soon 
perceived that a father who fears for his son’s life thinks 
no more of shades of religious dogma; he throws himself 
soul and body on the mercy of God, never thinking of the 
badge he wears before men. 

The old man, repulsed at every attempt, wandered half- 
witless about the streets. Against all his expectations, his 
gold was of no avail ; Monsieur de Thou had warned him 
that even if he should bribe some servant of the Guise 
household, he would only be so much out of pocket, for 
the Duke and the Cardinal allowed nothing to be known 


176 _ Catherine de’ Medici 


concerning Christophe. This judge, whose fair fame is 
somewhat tarnished by the part he played at this juncture, 
had tried to give the unhappy father some hope ; but he 
himself trembled for his godson’s life, and his consola- 
tions only added to the furrier’s alarm. The old man was 
always prowling round the house; in ser months he 
grew quite thin. 

His only hope now lay in the warm friendship which 
had so long bound him to the Hippocrates of the sixteenth 
century. Ambroise Paré tried to say a word to Queen 
Mary as he came out of the King’s room ; but the instant 
he mentioned Christophe, the daughter of the Stewarts, 
annoyed by the prospect before her in the event of any ill 
befalling the King, whom she believed to have been poi- 
soned by the Reformers, as he had been taken suddenly ill, 
replied— : 

“‘If my uncles would take my opinion, such a fanatic 
would have been hanged before now.” 

On the evening when this ominous reply had been re- 
peated to Lecamus by his friend Paré, on the Place de 
l’Estape, he went home half dead, and retired to his room, 
refusing to eat any supper. 

Tourillon, very uneasy, went up-stairs, and found the old 
man in tears ; and as the poor furrier’s feeble eyes showed 
the reddened and wrinkled linings of the lids, the glover 
believed that they were tears of blood. 

“*Be comforted, father,” said the Huguenot, ‘the 
citizens of Orleans are enraged at seeing their town treated 
as if it had been taken by assault, and guarded by Mon- 
sieur de Cypierre’s soldiery. If the Prince de Condé’s 
life should be in danger, we should very soon demolish 
the tower of Saint-Aignan, for the whole town is on the 
Reformers’ side, and would rise in rebellion, you may be 
quite certain.” 

«¢ But even if the Guises were seized, would their death 
give me back my son ?” said the unhappy father. 


- Catherine de’ Medici 177 


At this instant there was a timid rap at the outer door; 
Tourillon went down to openit. It was quite dark. In 
these troubled times the master of every household took 
elaborate precautions. Tourillon looked out through the 
bars of a wicket in the door, and saw a stranger, whose 
accent betrayed him as an Italian. This man, dressed in 
‘black, asked to see Lecamus on matters of business, and 
Tourillon showed him in. At the sight of the stranger 
the old furrier quaked visibly, but the visitor had time to 
lay a finger on his lips. Lecamus, understanding the 
gesture, immediately said— 

«* You have come to offer furs for sale, I suppose ? ” 

‘«* Si,” replied the stranger in Italian, with an air of 
privity. 

This man was, in fact, the famous Ruggieri, the Queen- 
mother’s astrologer. Tourillon went down-stairs, perceiv- 
ing that he was not wanted. 

‘¢ Where can we talk without fear of being overheard ?” 
said the astute Florentine. 

‘¢ Only in the open fields,” replied Lecamus. ‘‘ But we 
shall not be allowed ont of the town ; you know how strictly 
the gates are guarded. No one can pass out without an 
order from Monsieur de Cypierre, not even a member of 
the Assembly like myself. Indeed, at to-morrow’s sitting 
we allintend to complain of this restriction on our liberty.” 

‘¢ Work like a mole, never let your paws be seen in any 
kind of business,” replied the wily Florentine. ‘‘To- 
morrow will no doubt be a decisive day. From my calcu- 
lations, to-morrow, or soon after, you will perhaps see 
your son.” 

‘God grant it! Though you are said to deal only with 
the Devil !” 

“Come and see me at home,” said the astrologer, smil- 
ing. ‘“‘I watch the stars from the tower belonging to 
the Sieur Touchet du Beauvais, the Lieutenant of the 


Bailiwick, whose daughter has found favor in the eyes of 
12 


9 


178 Catherine de’ Medici 


the little Duc d’Orléans. Ihave cast the girl’s horoscope, 
and it does in fact portend that she will become a great 
lady and be loved by a King. The Lieutenant is a clever 
fellow, he is interested in science, and the Queen found 
me lodgings with the good’man, who is cunning enough 
to be a rabid Guisard till Charles [X. comes to the throne.” 

The furrier and the astrologer made their way to the 
Sieur de Beauvais’ house without being seen or interfered 
with ; and in the event of Lecamus being discovered, Rug- 
gieri meant to afford him a pretext in his desire to consult 
the astrologer as to his son’s fate. 

When they had climbed to the top of the turret where 
the astrologer had established himself, Lecamus said— 

«‘Then my son is really alive ?” 

«At present,” said the Italian. ‘‘ But we must make 
haste to save him. Remember, O seller of skins, that I 
would not give two farthings for yours if in the whole 
course of your life you breathe one word of what I am 
about to tell you.” 

‘«*The warning is not needed, master. I have been 
furrier to the Court since the time of the late King Louis 
XIl., and this is the fourth reign I have lived under.” 

«« And you may soon say the fifth,” replied Ruggieri. 

** What do you know of my son ?” 

“ Well, he has been through the torture-chamber.” 

‘* Poor boy!” sighed the old man, looking up to heaven. 

** His knees and ankles are a little damaged, but he has 
gained royal protection, which will be over him as long 
as he lives,” the Florentine added, on seeing the father’s 
horror. ‘‘ Your little Christophe has done good service 
to our great Queen Catherine. If we can get your son 
out of the clutches of the Cardinal, you will see him Coun- 
cilor in the Parlement yet. And a man would let his 
bones be broken three times over to find himself in the 
good graces of that beloved sovereign—a real genius she, 
who will triumph over every obstacle. 


Catherine de’ Medici 179 


“T have cast the horoscope of the Duc de Guise: he 
will be killed within a year. Come now, Christophe did 
meet the Prince de Condé——” 

** You know the future, do not you know the past?” 
the furrier put in. 

‘Tam not questioning you, I am informing you, good 
man. Well, your son will be placed to-morrow where the 
Prince will pass by. If he recognizes him, or if the Prince 
recognizes your son, Monsieur de Condé forfeits his head. © 
As to what would become of his accomplice—God only 
knows! But be easy. Neither your son nor the Prince 
is doomed to die; I have read their destiny ; they will 
live. But by what means they may escape I know not. 
Now we will do what we can, apart from the certainty of 
my calculations. Monsieur de Condé shall get a prayer- 
book to-morrow, delivered to him by a safe hand, in which 
he shall find a warning. God grant that your son may be 
secretive, for he can have no warning! And a mere flash 
of recognition would cost the Prince his life. Thus, al- 
though the Queen-mother has every reason to depend on 
Christophe’s fidelity-——” 

** He has been put to cruel tests,” cried the furrier. 

**Do not speak in that way. Do you suppose that the 
Queen is dancing for joy ? She is indeed going to take 
her measures exactly as though the Guises had decided on 
the Prince’s death ; and she is wise, that shrewd and pru- 
dent Queen ! Now she counts on you to help her in every 
way. You have some influence in the ‘Third Estate,’ 
where you are the representative of the Guilds of Paris ; 
and even if the Guisards should promise to set your son at 
liberty, try to deceive them and stir up your class against 
the Princes of Lorraine. Vote for the Queen-mother as 
Regent ; the King of Navarre will give his assent to that 
publicly, to-morrow, in the Assembly.” 

‘‘ But the King ?” 

** The King will die,” said Ruggieri ; ‘<I have read it in 


180 Catherine de’ Medici 


the stars. What the Queen requires of you in the Assembly 
is very simple ; but she needs a greater service from you 
than that. You maintained the great Ambroise Paré 
while he was a student ; you are his friend-——-” 

‘¢ Ambroise loves the Duc de Guise in these days better 
than he loves me,” said the furrier. ‘‘ And he is right; 
he owes his place to him. Still, he is faithful to the King. 
And, although he has a leaning towards the Reformation, 
he will do nothing but his duty.” 

«A plague on all honest men!” cried the Florentine. 
** Ambroise boasted this evening that he could pull the 
little King through. If the King recovers his health, the 
Guises must triumph, the Princes are dead men, the House 
of Bourbon is extinct, we go back to Florence, your son 
is hanged, and the Guises will make short work of the rest 
of the Royal family———” 

** Great God!” cried Lecamus. 

**Do not exclaim in that way ; it is like a citizen who 
knows nothing of Court manners ; but go forthwith to Am- 
broise, and find out what he means to do to save the King. 
If it seems at all certain, come and tell me what the opera- 
tion is in which he has such faith.” 

«‘ But-———” Lecamus began. 
~ © Obey me blindly, my good friend, otherwise you will 
be dazzled.” 

‘« He is right,” thought the furrier. 

And he went off to the King’s surgeon, who lived in an 
inn in the Place du Martroi. 


‘ 





At this juncture Catherine de’ Medici found herself, 
politically speaking, in the same extremities as she had 
been in when Christophe had seen her at Blois. Though 
she had inured herself to the struggle, and had exerted her 
fine intellect in that first defeat, her situation, though 
precisely the same now as then, was even more critical 
and dangerous than at the time of the riots at Amboise, 


Catherine de’ Medici 181 


Events had grown in magnitude, and the Queen had 
grown with them. ‘Though she seemed to proceed in 
agreement with the Princes of Lorraine, Catherine held 
the threads of a conspiracy skilfully plotted against her 
terrible associates, and was only waiting for a favorable 
moment to drop her mask. 

The Cardinal had just found himself deceived by 
Catherine. The crafty Italian had seen in the younger 
branch of the Royal family an obstacle she conld use to 
check the pretensions of the Guises ; and, in spite of the 
counsel of the two Gondis, who advised her to leave the 
Guises to act with what violence they could against the 
Bourbons, she had, by warning the Queen of Navarre, 
brought to nought the plot to seize Béarn concerted by the 
Guises with the King of Spain. As this State secret was 
known only to themselves and to Catherine, the Princes 
of Lorraine were assured of her betrayal, and they wished to 
send her back to Florence ; but to secure proofs of Cath- 
erine’s treachery to the State—the House of Lorraine was 
the State—the Duke and Cardinal had just made her privy 
to their scheme for making away with the King of Navarre. 

The precautions which were immediately taken by, An- 
toine de Bourbon proved to the brothers that this secret, 
known but to three people, had been divulged by the 
Queen-mother. The Cardinal de Lorraine accused Cath- 
erine of her breach of faith in the presence of the King, 
threatening her with banishment if any fresh indiscretions 
on her part should imperil the State. Catherine, seeing 
herself in imminent danger, was compelled to act asa high- 
handed sovereign. She gave ample proof indeed of her 
fine abilities, but it must also be confessed that she was 
well served by the friends she trusted. 

L’Ho6pital sent her a letter in these terms :-— 


** Do not allow a Prince of the Blood to be killed by a 
committee, or you will soon be carried off yourself.” 


* 


| 


| 


182 Catherine de’ Medici 


Catherine sent Birague to le Vignay, desiring the Chan- 
cellor to come to the Assembly of the States-General, al- 
though he wasin banishment. Birague returned the same 
evening with lHopital, halting within three leagues of 
Orleans, and the Chancellor thus declared himself on the 
side of the Queen-mother. 

Chiverni, whose fidelity was with good reason regarded 
as doubtful by the Guises, had fled from Orleans, and by 
a forced march, which nearly was his death, he reached 
Ecouen in ten hours. He there told the Connétable de 
Montmorency of the danger his nephew the Prince de 
Condé was in, and of the encroachments of the Guises. 
Anne de Montmorency, furious at learning that the Prince 
owed his life merely to the sudden illness of which Francis 
II. was dying, marched up with fifteen hundred horse and 
a hundred gentlemen under arms. The more effectually 
to surprise the Guises, he had avoided Paris, coming from 
Ecouen to Corbeil, and from Corbeil to Pithiviers by the 
Valley of the Essonne. 

** Man to man, and both to pull, leaves each but little 
wool!” he said, on the occasion of this dashing advance. 

Anne de Montmorency, who had been the preserver of 
France when Charles VY. invaded Provence, and the Duc de 
Guise, who had checked the Emperor’s second attempt at 
Metz, were, in fact, the two greatest French warriors of 
their time. 

Catherine had waited for the right moment to stir up 
the hatred of the man whom the Guises had overthrown. 
The Marquis de Simeuse, in command of the town of Gien, 
on hearing of the advance of so considerable a force as the 
Connétable brought with him, sprang to horse, hoping to 
warn the Duke in time. The Queen-mother, meanwhile, 
certain that the Connétable would come to his nephew’s 
rescue, and confident of the Chancellor’s devotion to the 
royal cause, had fanned the hopes and encouraged the 
spirit. of the Reformed party. The Colignys and the 


Sighewine de’ Media 183 


adherents of the imperiled House of Bourbon had made 
common cause with the Queen-mother’s partisans ; a coal- 
ition between various antagonistic interests, attacked by a 
common foe, was silently formed in the Assembly of the 
States, where the question was boldly broached of making 
Catherine Regent of France in the event of the young 
King’s death. Catherine herself, whose faith in astrology 
was far greater than her belief in Church dogmas, had 
ventured to extremes against her foes when she saw her 
son dying at the end of the time fixed as his term of life 
by the famous soothsayer brought to the chateau de Chau- 
mont by Nostradamus. 

A few days before the terrible close of his reign, Fran- 
cis II. had chosen to go out on the Loire, so asnot tobe 
in the town at the hour of the Prince de Condé’s intended 
execution. Having surrendered the Prince’s head to the 
Cardinal de Lorraine, he feared a riot quite as much as he 
dreaded the supplications of the Princesse de Condé. As 
he was embarking, a fresh breeze, such as often sweeps the 
Loire at the approach of winter, gave him so violent an 
earache that he was forced to return home; he went to 
bed, never to leave it alive. 

In spite of the disagreement of the physicians, who, all 
but Chapelain, were his enemies and opponents, Ambroise 
Paré maintained that an abscess had formed in the head, 
and that if no outlet were pierced the chances of the King’s 
death were greater every day. 

In spite of the late hour and the rigorous enforcement 
of the curfew at that time in Orleans, which was ruled as | 
in a state of siege, Paré’s lamp was shining in his window 
where he was studying. Lecamus called to him from be- 
low ; and when he had announced his name, the surgeon 
gave orders that his old friend should be admitted. 

‘“You give yourself no rest, Ambroise, and while say- 
ing the lives of others you will wear out your own,” said 
the furrier as he went in. 


184 Catherine de’ Medici 


Indeed there sat the surgeon, his books open, his in- 
struments lying about, and before him a skull not long 
since buried, dug up from the grave, and perforated. 

** T must save the King.” 

‘«Then you are very sure you can, Ambroise ?” said the 
old man, shuddering. 

‘© As sure as I am alive. The King, my good old 
friend, has some evil humor festering on his brain, which 
will fill it up, and the danger is pressing ; but by piercing 
the skull I let the matter ont and free his head. I have 
already performed this operation three times ; it was in- 
vented by a Piedmontese, and I have been so lucky as to 
improve upon it. The first time it was at the siege of 
Metz, on Monsieur de Pienne, whom I got out of the 
serape, and who has only been all the wiser for it; the 
second time it saved the life of a poor man on whom I 
wished to test the certainty of this daring operation to 
which Monsieur de Pienne had submitted ; the third time 
was on a gentleman in Paris, who is now perfectly well. 
Trepanning—for that is the name given to it—is as yet 
little known. The sufferers object to it on the score of 
the imperfection of the instrument, but that I have been 
able to improve. So now I am experimenting on this 
head, to be sure of not failing to-morrow on the King’s.” 

- © You must be very sure of yourself, for your head will 
be in danger if you——” 

«© T will wager my life that he is cured,” replied Paré, 
with the confidence of genius. ‘*Oh, my good friend, 
what is it to make a hole inthe skull with due care? It 
is what soldiers do every day with no care at all.” 

‘But do you know, my boy,” said the citizen, greatly 
daring, ‘‘ that if you save the King, you ruin France? 
Do you know that your instrument will place the crown of 
the Valois on the head ofa Prince of Lorraine, calling him- 
self the direct heir of Charlemagne? Do you know that 
surgery and politics are, at this moment, at daggers drawn ? 





Catherine de’ Medici _ 185 
Yes, the triumph of your genius will be the overthrow of 
your religion. Ifthe Guises retain the Regency, the blood 
of the Reformers will flow in streams! Be a great citizen 
rather than a great surgeon, and sleep through to-morrow 
morning, leaving the King’s room free to those leeches 
who, if they do not save the King, will save France,” 
“‘T!” cried Paré. ‘I—leave a man to die when I can 
eure him? Never! If I amto be hanged for a Calvinist, 
I will go to the chateau, all the same, right early to-mor- 


row. Do not you know that the only favor I mean to ask, — 


when I have saved the King, is your Christophe’s life ? 
There will surely be a moment when Queen Mary can 
refuse me nothing.” 

«‘ Alas, my friend, has not the little King already re- 
fused the Princesse de Condé any pardon for her husband ? 
Do not kill your religion by enabling the man to live who 
ought to die.” 

** Are you going to puzzle yourself by trying to find out 
how God means to dispose of things in the future ? ” said 
Paré. ‘‘ Honest folks have but one motto—‘ Do your 
duty, come what may.’—I did thisat the siege of Calais 
when I set my foot on the Grand Master; I risked being 
cut down by all his friends and attendants, and here I am, 
surgeon to the King; I ama Reformer, and yet I can call 
the Guises my friends.—I will save the King ! ” cried the 
surgeon, with the sacred enthusiasm of conviction that 
genius knows, ‘and God will take care of France !” 

There was a knock at the door, and a few minutes later 
one of Ambroise Paré’s servants gave a note to Lecamus, 
who read aloud these ominous words : — 


** A scaffold is being erected at the Convent of the Ré- 
collets for the beheading of the Prince de Condé to-mor- 
row.” 


Ambroise and Lecamus looked at each other both over- 
powered with horror, | 


186 Catherine de’ Medici 


**T will go and make sure,” said the furrier. 

Out on the square, Ruggieri took Lecamus by the arm, 
asking what was Paré’s secret for saving the King; but 
the old man, fearing some treachery, insisted on going to 
see the scaffold. So the astrologer and the furrier went 
together to the Récollets, where, in fact, they found car- 
penters at work by torchlight. 

«¢ Hey day, my friend,” said Lecamus to one of them; 
“‘what business is this ?” 

«‘We are preparing to hang some heretics, since the 
bleeding at Ambroise did not cure them,” said a young 
friar, who was superintending the workmen. 

«* Monseigneur the Cardinal does well,” said the prudent 
Ruggieri. ‘‘ But in my country we do even better.” 

“What do you do ?” 

**We burn them, brother.” 

Lecamus was obliged to lean on the astrologer ; his legs 
refused to carry him, for he thought that his son might 
next day be swinging to one of those gibbets. The poor 
old man stood between two sciences—astrology and medi- 
cine ; each promised to save his son, for whom the scaffold 
was visibly rising. In this confusion of mind he was as 
wax in the hands of the Florentine. 

«¢ Well, my most respectable vendor of vair, what have 
you to say to these pleasantries of Lorraine?” said 
Ruggieri. 

<‘Woe the day! You know I would give my own skin 
to see my boy’s safe and sound.” 

<‘ That is what I call talking like a skinner,” replied the 
Italian. ‘‘But if you will explain to me the operation 
that Ambroise proposes to perform on the King, I will 
guarantee your son’s life.” 

“‘Truly ?” cried the old furrier. 

<¢ What shall I swear by ?” said Ruggieri. 

On this the unhappy old man repeated his conversation 
with Paré to the Italian, who was off, leaving the discon- 


Catherine de’ Medici 187 


solate father in the road the instant he had heard the 
great surgeon’s secret. 

‘* Whom the devil does he mean mischief to ?” cried 
Lecamus, as he saw Ruggieri running at his utmost speed 
towards the Place de |’Estape. 


Lecamus knew nothing of the terrible scene which was 
going on by the King’s bedside, and which had led to the 
order being given for the erection of the scaffold for the 
Prince, who had been sentenced in default, as it were, 
though his execution was postponed for the moment by 
the King’s illness. 

There was no one in the hall, on the stairs, or in the 
courtyard of the Bailli’s house but those on actual duty. 
The crowd of courtiers had resorted to: the lodgings of the 
King of Navarre, who, by the law of the land, was Regent. 
The French nobles, terrified indeed by the insolence of the 
_ Guises, felt an impulse to close their ranks round the chief 
of the younger branch, seeing that the Queen-mother was 
subservient to the Guises, and not understanding her Ital- 
ian policy. Antoine de Bourbon, faithful to his secret 
compact with Catherine, was not to renounce his claim to 
the regency in her favor till the States-General should 
have voted on the question. 

This absolute desertion had struck the Grand Master 
when, on his return from a walk through the town—as a 
precautionary measure—he found no one about the King 
but the friends dependent on his fortunes. The room 
where Francis II.’s bed had been placed adjoins the great 
hall of the bailiff’s residence, and was at that time lined 
with oak paneling. The ceiling, formed of narrow boards, 
skilfully adjusted and painted, showed an arabesque pat- 
tern in blue on a gold ground, and a piece of it, pulled 
down about fifty years ago, has been preserved by a col- 
lector of antiquities. This room, hung with tapestry, and 
the floor covered with a carpet, was so dark that the 


— 


166 < Catherine de’ Medici 


burning tapers scarcely. gave it light. The enormous 
bedstead, with four columnar posts and silk curtains, 
looked like a tomb. On one side of the bed, by the King’s 
pillow, were Queen Mary and the Cardinal de Lorraine ; 
on the other sat Catherine inan armchair. The physician- 
in-ordinary, the famous Jean Chapelain, afterwards in 
attendance on Charles IX., was standing by the fireplace. 
Perfect silence reigned. 

The young King, pale and slight, lost in the sheets, was 
hardly to be seen, with his small, puckered face on the 
pillow. The Duchesse de Guise, seated on a stool, was 
supporting Mary Stewart; and near Catherine, in a 
window recess, Madame de Fieschi was watching the 
Queen-mother’s looks and gestures, for she understood the 
perils of her position. 

In the great hall, notwithstanding the late hour, Mon- 
sieur de Cypierre, the Duc d’Orleans’ tutor, appointed to 
be governor of the town, occupied a chimney corner with 
the two Gondis. Cardinal de Tournon, who at this crisis 
had taken part with Queen Catherine, on finding himself 
treated as an inferior by the Cardinal de Lorraine, whose 
equal he undoubtedly was in the Church, was conversing 
in a low voice with the brothers Gondi. The Maréchal de 
Vieilleville and Monsieur de Saint-André, Keeper of the 
Seals, were discussing in whispers the imminent dana of 
the Guises. 

The Duc de Guise crossed the hall, glancing hastily 
about him, and bowed to the Duc d’Orléans, whom he 
recognized. 

“«* Monseigneur,” said he, ‘‘ this may give you a lesson in 
the knowledge of men. The Catholic nobility of the 
kingdom have crowded round a heretic prince believing 


- that the States assembled will place the Regency in the 


hands of the heir to the traitor who so long kept your 
illustrious grandfather a prisoner.” 
And after this speech, which was calculated to make a 


* 


Catherine de’ Medici 189 __ 
deep impression on a prince’s mind, he went into the bed- 
room where the young King was lying, not so much asleep 
as heavily drowsy. As arule, the Duc de Guise had the 
art of overcoming, by his affable expression, the sinister 
appearance of his scarred features ; but at this moment he 
could not force a smile, seeing the instrument of power 
quite broken. The Cardinal, whose civic courage was 
equal to his brother’s military valor, came forward a step 
or two to meet the Lieutenant-General. 

**Robertet believes that little Pinard has been bought 
over by the Queen-mother,” he said in his ear, as he led him 
back into the hall. <‘ He has been made use of to work on 
the members of the Assembly.” 

‘* Bah ! what matters our being betrayed by a secretary, 
when there is treason everywhere?” cried the Duke. 
*< The town is for the Reformers, and we are on the eve of 
arevolt. Yes! the Guépins are malcontents,” he added, 
giving the people of Orleans their common nickname, 
«and if Paré cannot save the King, we shall see a desper- 
ate outbreak. Before long we shall have to lay siege to © 
Orleans, which is a vermin’s nest of Huguenots.” 

“« In the last minute,” said the Cardinal, ‘‘ I have been 
watching that Italian woman, who sits there without a 
spark of feeling. She is waiting for her son’s death, God 
forgive her !—I wonder whether it would not be well to 
arrest her and the King of Navarre too.” 

‘‘Tt is more than enough to have the Prince de Condé 
in prison,” replied the Duke. 

The sound of a horse ridden at top-speed came up from 
the gate. The two Princes went to the window, and by 
the light of the gatekeeper’s torch and of the cresset that 
was always burning under the gateway, the Duke recog- 
nized in the rider’s hat the famous cross of Lorraine, 
which the Cardinal had made the badge of their partisans. 
He sent one of the men-at-arms, who stood in the ante- 
room, to say that the newcomer was to be admitted ; and 


190 Catherine de’ Medici 


he went to the head of the stairs to meet him, followed by 
his brother, 

‘‘What is the news, my dear Simeuse?” asked the 
Duke, with the charming manner he always had for a 
soldier, as he recognized the Commandant of Gien. , 

«The Connétable is entering Pithiviers ; he left Ecouen 
with fifteen hundred horse anda hundred gentlemen——” 

_ ** Have they any following ?” said the Duke. 

** Yes, Monseigneur,” replied Simeuse. ‘‘ There are two 
thousand six hundred of them in all. Some say that Thoré 
is behind with a troop of infantry. If Montmorency 
amuses himself with waiting for his son, you have time 
before you to undo him.” 

«< And that is all you know? Are his motives for this 
rush to arms commonly reported ?” 

«© Anne speaks as little as he writes; do you go and 
meet him, brother, while I will greet him here with his 
nephew’s head,” said the Cardinal, ordering an attendant 
to fetch Robertet. 

<¢ Vieilleville,” cried the Duke to the Marshal, who 
came in, ‘‘the Connétable de Montmorency has dared to 
take up arms. If I go out to meet him, will you be re- 
sponsible for keeping order in the town ?” 

‘The instant you are out of it, the townsfolk will 
rise; and who can foresee the issue of a fray between 
horsemen and citizens in such narrow streets ?” replied 
the Marshal. 

«*My Lord!” said Robertet, flying up the stairs, ‘‘the 
Chancellor is at the gates, and insists on coming in; are 
we to admit him ?” 

‘© Yes, admit him,” said the Cardinal de Lorraine. 
«©The Constable and the Chancellor together would be 
too dangerous ; we must keep them apart. We were 
finely tricked by the Queen-mother when we elected 
l’H6pital to that office.” 

Rebertet nodded to a captain whe awaited the reply at 


Catherine de’ Medici 191 


the foot of the stairs, and returned quickly to take the 
Cardinal’s orders. 

‘* My Lord,” said he, making a last effort, ‘*I take the 
liberty of representing to you that the sentence requires 
the approval of the King in Council. If you violate the 
law for a Prince of the Blood, it will not be respected in 
favor of a Cardinal or of a Due de Guise.” 

**Pinard has disturbed your mind, Robertet,” said the 
Cardinal sternly,  ‘*Do you not know that the King 
signed the warrant on the day when he went out, leaving 
it to us tocarry it out ?” 

«Though you are almost requiring my head of me when 
you give me this duty—which, however, will be that of 
the town-provost—I obey, my Lord.” 

The Grand Master heard the debate without wincing ; 
but he took his brother by the arm, and led him toa 
corner of the hall. 

“Of course,” said he, ‘‘ the direct heirs of Charlemagne 
have the right to take back the crown which was snatched 
from their family by Hugues Capet; but—can they ? 
The pear is not ripe.—Our nephew is dying, and all the 
Court is gone over to the King of Navarre.” 

«‘The King’s heart failed him ; but for that, the Béar- 
nais would have been stabbed,” replied the Cardinal, ‘‘ and 
we could easily have disposed of the children.” 

“< We are in a bad position here,” said the Duke. ‘‘ The 
revolt in the town will be supported by the States-General. 
L’Hépital, whom we have befriended so well, and whose 
elevation Queen Catherine opposed, is now our foe, and 
we need the law on our side. The Queen-mother has too 
many adherents now to allow of our sending her away.— 
And besides, there are three more boys ! ” 

«‘ She is no longer a mother ; she is nothing but a queen,” 
said the Cardinal. ‘‘ In my opinion, this is the very mo- 
ment to be rid of her. Energy, and again energy ! that is 
what I prescribe.” 


192 Catherine de’ Medici 


Having said this, the Cardinal went back into the King’s 
room, and the Duke followed him. The prelate went 
straight up to Catherine. 

‘«The papers found on La Sagne, the Princo de Condé’s 
secretary, have been communicated to you,” said he. 
' “You know that the Bourbons mean to dethrone your 
children ? ” 

**T know it all,” said the Queen. 

** Well, then, will you not have the King of Navarre 
arrested ?” 

«‘ There is a Lieutenant-General of the kingdom,” re- 
plied she. 

At this moment Francis complained of the most violent 
pain in his ear, and began to moan lamentably. The 
physician left the fireplace, where he was warming him- 
self, and came to examine the patient’s head. 

«* Well, Monsieur ?” said the Grand Master, addressing 
him. 

«*T dare not apply a compress to draw the evil humors. 
Master Ambroise has undertaken to save his Majesty by 
an operation, and I should annoy him by doing so.” 

‘Put it off till to-morrow,” said Catherine calmly, 
*‘and be present, all of you medical men; for you know 
what calumnies the death of a prince gives ground for.” 

She kissed her son’s hands and withdrew. 

** How coolly that audacious trader’s daughter can speak 
of the Dauphin’s death, poisoned as he was by Monte- 
cuculi, a Florentine of her suite!” cried Mary Stewart. 

“* Marie,” said the little King, “‘ my grandfather never 
cast a suspicion on her innocence.” 

«Cannot we hinder that woman from coming here to- 
morrow ?” said the Queen in an undertone to her two 
uncles. 

‘* What would become of us if the King should die ?” 
replied the Oardinal. ‘‘ Catherine would hurl us all into 
his grave.” 


‘Catherine de’ Medici _ 193 


And so that night the question stood plainly stated 
between Catherine de’ Medici and the House of Lorraine. 
The arrival of the Chancellor and the Connétable de 
Montmorency pointed to rebellion, and the dawn of the 
morrow would prove decisive. 


On the following day the Queen-mother was the first to 


appear. She found no one in her son’s room but Mary 
Stewart, pale and fatigued from having passed the night 
in prayer by the bedside. The Duchesse de Guise had 
kept the Queen company, and the maids of honor had 
relieved each other. The young King was asleep. 

Neither the Duke nor the Cardinal had yet appeared. 
The prelate, more daring than the soldier, had spent this 
last night, it is said, in vehement argument, without being 
able to induce the Duke to proclaim himself King. With 
the States-General sitting in the town, and the prospect of 
a battle to be fought with the Constable, the ‘‘ Balafré ” 
did not think the opportunity favorable; he refused to 
arrest the Queen-mother, the Chancellor, Cardinal de 
Tournon, the Gondis, Ruggieri, and Birague, in face of 
the revolt that would inevitably result from such violent 
measures. He made his brother’s schemes dependent on 
the life of Francis IT. 

Perfect silence reigned in the King’s bedchamber, 
Catherine, attended by Madame de Fieschi, came to the 
bedside and gazed at herson with an admirable assumption 
of grief. She held her handkerchief to her eyes, and re- 
treated to the window, where Madame de Fieschi brought 
her a chair. From thence she could look down into the 
courtyard. 

It had been agreed between Catherine and the Cardinal 
de Tournon that if Montmorency got safely into the town, 
he, the Cardinal, would come to her, accompanied by the 
two Gondis; in case of disaster, he was to come alone. 
At nine in the morning the two Princes of Lorraine, ac- 
companied by their suite, who remained in the hall, came 

13 


—s _ 


194 Catherine de’ Medici 


to the King’s room. The captain on duty had informed 
them that Ambroise Paré had but just arrived with Chape- 
lain and three other physicians, prompted by Catherine, 
and all hating Ambroise. 

In a few minutes the great hall of the Bailliage pre- 
sented precisely the same appearance as the guardroom at 
Blois on the day when the Duc de Guise was appointed 
Lieutenant-General of the kingdom, and when Christophe 
was tortured ; with only this difference, that then love 
and glee reigned in the royal rooms, and that the Guises 
were triumphant ; whereas now death and grief prevailed, 
and the Princes of Lorraine felt the power slipping from 
their grasp. 

The maids of honor of the two Queens were grouped on 
opposite sides of the great fireplace, where an immense 
fire was blazing. The room was full of courtiers. 

The news, repeated no one knows by whom, of a bold 
plan of Ambroise Paré’sfor saving the King’s life, brought 
in every gentleman who had any right to appear at Court. 
The outer steps of the house and the courtyard were 
thronged with anxious groups. The scaffold erected for 
the Prince, opposite the Convent of the Récollets, aston- 
ished allthe nobles. People spoke in whispers, and here, 
as at Blois, the conversation was a medley of serious and 
frivolous subjects, of grave and trivial taik. They were 
beginning to feel used to turmoils, to sudden rebellion, to 
a rush to arms, to revolts, to the great and sudden events 
which marked the long period during which the House of 
Valois was dying out, inspite of Queen Catherine’s efforts. 
Deep silence was kept for some distance outside the bed- 
room door, where two men-at-arms were on guard, with 
two pages, and the captain of the Scotch company. 

Antoine de Bourbon, a prisoner in his lodgings, finding 
himself neglected, understood the hopes of the courtiers ; 
he was overwhelmed at hearing of the preparations made 
during the night for his brother’s execution, 


Catherine de’ Medici 195 


In front of the hall fireplace stood one of the finest and 
grandest figures of his time, the Chancellor de l’Hé6pital, in 
his crimson robes bordered with ermine, and wearing his 
square cap, in right of his office. This brave man, regard- 
ing his benefactors as the leaders of a rebellion, had es- 
poused the cause of his king, as represented by the Queen- 
mother ; and at the risk of his head he had gone to Ecouen 
to consult the Connétable de Montmorency. Noone dared 
to disturb the meditations in which he was plunged. 
Robertet, the Secretary of State, two marshals of France, 
Vieilleville and Saint- André, and the Keeper of the Seals, 
formed a group in front of the Chancellor. 

The men of the Court were not actually laughing, but 
their tone was sprightly, especially among those who were 
disaffected to the Guises. 

The Cardinal had at last secured Stewart, the Scotchman ~ 
who had murdered President Minard, and was arranging 
for his trialat Tours. He had also confined in the chateaux 
of Blois and of Tours a considerable number of gentlemen 
who had seemed compromised, to inspire a certain degree 
of terror in the nobles ; they, however, were not terrified, 
but saw in the Reformation a fulcrum for the lever of 
resistance they derived from a feeling of their inborn 
equality with the King. Now, the prisoners at Blois had 
contrived to escape, and, by a singular fatality, those 
who had been shut up at Tours had just followed their 
example. 

‘* Madame,” said the Cardinal de Chatillon to Madame 
de Fieschi, ‘‘ if any one takes an interest in the prisoners 
from Tours, they are in the greatest danger.” 

On hearing this speech, the Chancellor looked round at 
the group of the elder Queen’s maids of honor. 

“Yes, for young Desvaux, the Prince de Condé’s equerry, 
who was imprisoned at Tours, added a bitter jest to his 
escape. He is said to have written a note to Messieurs de 
Guise to this effect :— 


196 - Catherine de’ Medici 


«We have heard of the escape of your prisoners at 
Blois ; it has grieved us so much, that weare about to run 
after them ; we will bring them back to you as soon as we 
have arrested them.’” 


Though he relished this pleasantry, the Chancellor 
looked sternly at Monsieur de Chatillon. 

At this instant louder voices were heard in the King’s 
- pbedchamber. The two marshals, with Robertet and the 
Chancellor, went forward, for it was not merely a question 
of life and death to the King ; everybody was in the 
secret of the danger to the Chancellor, to Oatherine, and 
to her adherents. The silence that ensued was absolute. 

Ambroise had examined the King; the moment seemed 
favorable for the operation ; if it were not performed, he 
might die at any moment. As soon as the brothers de 
Guise came in, he explained to them the causes of the 
King’s sufferings, and demonstrated that in such extremi- 
ties trepanning was absolutely necessary. He only awaited 
the decision of the physicians. 

«* Pierce my son’s skull as if it were a board, and with 
that horrible instrument!” cried Catherine de’ Medici. 
“ Maitre Ambroise, I will not permit it.” 

The doctors were consulting, but Catherine spoke so 
loud that, as she intended, her words were heard in the 
outer room. 

‘« But, Madame, if that is the only hope of saving him ?” 
said Mary Stewart, weeping. 

‘* Ambroise,” said Catherine, ‘‘remember that you an- 
swer for the King with your head.” 

“‘We are opposed to the means proposed by Maftre 
Ambroise,” said the three physicans. “The King may 
be saved by injecting a remedy into the ear which will re- 
lease the humors through that passage.” 

The Duc de Guise, who was studying Oatherine’s face, 
suddenly went up to her, and led her inte the window-bay. 


Catherine de’ Medici . 297% 


“You, Madame,” said he, “‘ wish your son to die; you » 
are in collusion with your enemies, and that since we 
came from Blois. This morning Councilor Viole told 
your furrier’s son that the Prince de Condé was to be be-’ 
headed. That young man, who, under torture, had de- 
nied all knowledge of the Prince de Condé, gave him a 
‘farewell greeting as he passed the window of the lad’s 
prison, You looked on at your hapless accomplice’s 
suffering with royal indifference. Now, you are opposed 
to your eldest son’s life being saved. You will force us to 
believe that the death of the Dauphin, which placed the 
crown on the head of the late King, was not natural, but 
that Montecuculli was yoor——” 

«* Monsieur le Chancelier !’’? Oatherine called out, and 
at this signal Madame de Fieschi threw open the double 
doors of the bedchamber. 

The persons assembled in the hall could thus see the 
whole scene in the King’s room: the little King, deadly 
pale, his features sunk, his eyes dim, but repeating the word 
“Marie,” while he held the hand of the young Queen, who 
was weeping ; the Duchesse de Guise standing, terrified by 
Catherine’s audacity ; the two Princes of Lorraine, not 
less anxious, but keeping close to the Queen-mother, and 
resolved to have her arrested by Maillé-Brézé ; and finally, 
the great surgeon Ambroise Paré, with theKing’s physician. 
He stood holding his instruments, but not daring to per- 
form the operation, for which perfect quiet was as neces- 
sary as the approbation of the medical authorities. 

«¢ Monsieur le Chancelier,” said Catherine, ‘*‘ Messieurs 
de Guise wish to authorize a strange operation on the 
King’s person. Ambroise proposes to perforate his head. 
I, as his mother, and one of the commission of Regency, 
protest against what seems to me to be high treason. 
The three physicians are in favor of an injection which, 
to me, seems quite as efficacious and less dangerous than 
the crael process recommended by Ambroise.” 


198 Catherine de’ Medici 


At these words there was a dull murmur in reply. 
The Cardinal admitted the Chancellor, and then shut the 
bedroom doors. 

«But I am Lieutenant-General of the realm,” said the 
Duc de Guise, ‘‘and you must understand, Monsieur le 
Chancelier, that Ambroise, surgeon to his Majesty, an- 
swers for the King’s life.” 

“* Well, since this is the state of affairs,” said the great 
Ambroise Paré, “‘ I know what to be doing.” 

He put out his arm over the bed. 

<‘This bed and the King are mine,” said he. ‘‘I con- 
stitute myself the sole master, and singly responsible ; I 
know the duties of my office, and I will operate on the 
King without the physicians’ sanction.” 

«‘Save him!” cried the Cardinal, “‘ and you shall be the 
richest man in France.” 

“Only go on!” said Mary Stewart, pressing Paré’s 
hand, 

**T cannot interfere,” said the Chancellor, ‘‘ but I shall 
record the Queen-mother’s protest.” 

“< Robertet,” the Duc de Guise called out. 

Robertet came in, and the Duke pointed to the Chan- 
cellor. 

**You are Chancellor of France,” he said, “‘in the 
place of this felon. Monsieur de Maillé, take Monsieur 
de l’Hépital to prison with the Prince de Condé.—As to 
you, Madame,” and he turned to Catherine, ‘‘ your protest 
will not be recognized, and you would do well to remem- 
ber that such actions need the support of adequate force. 
I am acting as a faithful and loyal subject of King 
Francis II., my sovereign.—Proceed, Ambroise,” he said to 
the surgeon. 

‘“ Monsieur de Guise,” said l’Hépital, ‘“‘if you use any 
violence, either on the person of the King or on that of 
his Chancellor, remember that in the hall without there 
is enough French nobility to arrest all traitors.” 


e 


Catherine de’ Medici 199 


‘‘Gentlemen, gentlemen,” said the surgeon, ‘‘if you 


prolong this debate, you may as well shout ‘ Vive Charles 
IX.,’ for King Francis is dying.” 

Catherine stood unmoved, looking out of window. 

“* Well, then, we will use force to remain masters in 
the King’s bedroom,” said the Cardinal, trying to keep 
the door ; but he was startled and horrified, for the great 
hall was quite deserted. ‘The Court, sure that the King 
was dying, had gone back to Antoine of Navarre. 

** Come ; do it, do it,” cried Mary Stewart to Ambroise. 

‘*T and you, Duchess,” she said to Madame de Guise, 
“* will protect you.” 

‘Nay, Madame,” said Paré, ‘‘ my zeal carried me too 
far ; the doctors, with the exception of my friend Chape- 
lain, are in favor of the injection ; I must yield to them. 
If I were physican and surgeon-in-chief, he could be 
saved !—Give it me,” he said, taking a small syringe 
from the hand of the chief physician, and filling it. 

““Good God!”. cried Mary Stewart; “‘I command 
y ou——”’ 

** Alas! Madame,” replied Paré, ‘‘I am subordinate to 
these gentlemen.” 

The young Queen and the Duchesse de Guise stood be- 
tween the surgeon and the doctors and the other persons 
present. The chief physician held the King’s head, and 
Ambroise made the injection into the ear. The two 
Princes of Lorraine were watchful; Robertet and Mon- 
sieur de Maillé stood motionless. Atasign from Cath- 
erine, Madame de Fieschi left the room unnoticed. At 
the same instant l’Hépital boldly threw open the door of 
the King’s bedroom. 

‘¢T have arrived in the nick of time,” exclaimed a man, 
whose hasty steps rang through the hall, and who, in 
another minute, was at the door of the King’s room. 
“‘What, gentlemen! You thought to cut off my fine 
nephew, the Prince de Condé’s head ?—You have roused 


200 _ Catherine de’ Medici 


the lion from his lair, and here he is !” added the Conné- 
table de Montmorency.—‘‘ Ambroise, you are not to stir 
up my King’s brains with your instruments! The Kings 
of France do not allow themselves to be knocked about 
in that way unless by their enemies’ sword in fair fight ! 
The first Prince of the Blood, Antoine de Bourbon, the 
Prince de Condé, the Queen-mother, and the Chancellor 
are all opposed to the operation.” 

To Catherine’s great satisfaction, the King of Navarre 
and the Prince de Condé both made their appearance. 

«« What is the meaning of this ?” said the Duc de Guise, 
laying his hand on his poniard. 

**As Lord High Constable, I have dismissed all the 
sentinels from their posts. Blood and thunder! we are 
not in an enemy’s country, I suppose. The King our 
Master is surrounded by his subjects, and the States- 
General of the realm may deliberate in perfect liberty. 
I have just come from the Assembly, gentlemen ; I laid 
before it the protest of my nephew de Condé, who has 
been rescued by three hundred gentlemen. You meant 
to let the royal blood, and to decimate the nobility of 
France. Henceforth I shall not trust anything you 
propose, Messieurs de Lorraine. And if you give the 
order for the King’s head to be opened, by this sword, 
which saved France from Charles V., I say it shall not be 
done—— !” 

‘¢ All the more so,” said Ambroise Paré, “‘ because it is 
too late, suffusion has begun.” 

«* Your reign is over, gentlemen,” said Catherine to the 
two Guises,'seeing from Paré’s manner that there was now 
no hope. ' 

*©You, Madame, have killed your son!” said Mary 
- Stewart, springing like a lioness from the bed to the win- 
dow, and seizing the Italian Queen by the arm with a 
vehement clutch. 

«« My dear,” replied Catherine de’ Medici, with a keen, 


\ 


| 


a 7 \ 


Catherine de’ Medici 201 
cold look that expressed the hatred she had suppressed 


_ for six months past, “ you, to whose violent passion this 


death is due; will now go to reign over your own Scotland 

—and you will al ie Iam now Regent in fact 

as well as in name.’ Y 
The three physicians had made a sign to the b sr 


| mother. 


- Gentlemen,” she went on, addressing the Guises, ‘‘ it 
is an understood thing between Monsieur de Bourbon— 
whom I hereby appoint Lieutenant-General of the king- 
dom—and myself that the conduct of affairs is our busi- 
ness. —Come, Monsieur le Chancelier.” 

“‘The King is dead!” said the Grand Master, obliged 
to carry out the functions of his office. 

**God save King Charles [X.!” cried the gentlemen 
who had come with the King of Navarre, the Prince de 
Condé, and the Constable. 

The ceremonies performed when a King of France dies 
were carried out in solitude. When the king-at-arms 
called out three times in the great hall, ‘‘The King is 
dead!” after the official announcement by the Duc de 
Guise, there were but a few persons present to answer— 
“*God save the King!” 

The Queen-mother, to whom the Countess Fieschi 
brought the Duc d’Orléans, now Charles IX., left the 
room leading the boy by the hand, and followed by the 
whole Court. Only the two Guises, the Duchesse de 
Guise, Mary Stewart, and Dayelle remained in the room 
where Francis II. had breathed his last, with two guards 
at the door, the Grand Master’s pages and the vee 
and their two private secretaries. 

“Vive la France!” shouted some of the Reformers, a 
first cry of opposition. 

Robertet who owed everything to the Duke and the 
Cardinal, terrified by their schemes and their abortive 
attempts, secretly attached himself to the Queen-mother, 


® 
* 


202 Catherine de’ Medici 


whom the Ambassadors of Spain, England, the German 
Empire, and Poland met on the stairs, at their head Car- 
dinal Tournon, who had gone to call them after looking 
_ up from the courtyard to Catherine de’ Medici just as she 
was protesting against Ambroise Paré’s operation. 

** Well, the sons of Louis d’Outre- Mer, the descendants 
of Charles de Lorraine, have proved cravens,” said the 
- Cardinal to the Duke. 

** They would have been packed off to Lorraine,” replied 
his brother. ‘‘I declare to you, Charles,” he went on, 
‘if the crown were there for the taking, I would not put 
out my hand for it. That will be my son’s task.” 

** Will he ever have the army and the Church on his 
side as you have ?” 

** He will have something better.” 

«© What ?” 

««The people.” 

«‘ And there is no one to mourn for him but me—the 
poor boy who loved me so well !” said Mary Stewart, hold- 
ing the cold hand of her first husband. 

“«How can we be reconciled to the Queen?” said the 
Cardinal. 

<‘ Wait till she quarrels with the Huguenots,” said the 
Duchess. | 

The clashing interests of the House of Bourbon, of 
Catherine, of the Guises, and of the Reformers produced 
such confusion in Orleans, that it was not till three days 
after that the King’s body, quite forgotten where it lay, 
was placed in a coffin by obscure serving men, and carried 
to Saint-Denis in a covered vehicle, followed only by the 
Bishop of Senlis and two gentlemen. When this dismal 
little procession arrived at the town of Etampes, a follower 
of the Chancellor de l’Hépital attached to the hearse this 
bitter inscription, which history has recorded : ‘‘ Tanneguy 
du Chastel, where are you? Yet you too were French!” 
A stinging innuendo, striking at Catherine, Mary Stewart, 


Catherine de’ Medici 203 


Mr, ; 

\and the Guises. For what Frenchman does not know that 
‘Tanneguy du Chastel spent thirty thousand crowns (a mil- 
lion of francs in these days) on the obsequies of Charles 
VII., the benefactor of his family ? 


As soon as the tolling bells announced the death of 
Francis II., and the Connétable de Montmorency had 
thrown open the gates of the town, Tourillon went up to 
his hayloft and made his way to a hiding-place. 

«* What, can he be dead ?” exclaimed the glover. 

On hearing the voice, a man rose and replied, “ Pré &@ 
servir” (‘Ready to serve,” or ‘‘ Ready, aye ready”), the 
watchword of the Reformers of Calvin’s sect. 

This man was Chaudieu, to whom Tourillon related the 
events of the last week, during which he had left the 
preacher alone in his hiding-place, with a twelve-ounce 
loaf for his sole sustenance. 

<« Be off to the Prifice de Condé, brother, ask him for 
a safe-conduct for me, and find me a horse,” cried the 
preacher. “I must set out this moment.” 

‘‘ Write him a line then, that I may be admitted.” 

«‘ Here,” said Chaudieu, after writing a few lines, “ ask 
for a pass from the King of Navarre, for under existing 
circumstances I must hasten to Geneva.” 

Within two honrs all was ready, and the zealous minis- 
ter was on his way to Geneva, escorted by one of the 
King of Navarre’s gentlemen, whose secretary Chaudieu 
was supposed to be, and who was the bearer of instructions 
to the Reformed party in Dauphiné. 

Chaudieu’s sudden departure was at once permitted, to 
further the interests of Queen Catherine, who, to gain 
time, made a bold suggestion which was kept a profound 
secret. This startling scheme accounts for the agree- 
ment so unexpectedly arrived at between the Queen and 
the leaders of the Protestant party. The crafty woman 
had, as a guarantee of her good faith, expressed a desire 


204  Gatherine de’ Medici 


to heal the breach between the two Churches, in an as- 
sembly which could be neither a Synod, nor a Oouncil, 
nor a Convocation, for which indeed # new name was 
needed, and, above all else, Calvin’s consent. It may be 
said in passing, that, when this mystery came out, it led 
to the alliance of the Guises with the Connétable de Mont- 
morency against Catherine and the King of Navarre—a 
strange coalition, known to history as the Triumvirate, 
‘because the Maréchal de Saint-André was the third person 
in this purely Catholic combination, to which Catherine’s 
strange proposal for a meeting gave rise. The Guises 
were then enabled to judge very shrewdly of Catherine’s 
policy ; they saw that the Queen cared little enough for 
this assembly, and only wanted to temporize with her allies 
till Charles IX. should be of age; indeed, they deceived 
Montmorency by making him believe in a collusion be- 
tween Catherine and the Bourbons, while Catherine was 
taking them all in. The Queen, it will be seen, had in 
ashort time made great strides. 

The spirit of argument and discussion which was then 
in the air was particularly favorable to this scheme. 
The Catholics and the Huguenots were all to shine in turn 
in this tournament of words. Indeed, that is exactly what 
happened. Is it not extraordinary that historians should 
have mistaken the Queen’s shrewdest craft for hesitancy ? 
Catherine never went more directly to the end she had in 
view than when she seemed to have turned her back on 
it. So the King of Navarre, incapable of fathoming 
Catherine’s motives, despatched Chaudien to Calvin ; 
Chaudieu having secretly intended to watch the course of 
events at Orleans; where he ran, every hour, the risk of 
being seized and hanged without trial, like any man who 
had been condemned to banishment. 

At the rate of traveling then possible Ohaudieu could 
not reach Geneva before the month of February, the 
negotiations could not be completed till March, and the 


Catherine de’ Medici 2") 205 


meeting could not be called till the beginning of May 
1561. Catherine intended to amuse the Court meanwhile, 
and loll party-feeling by the King’s coronation, and by 
his first Bed of Justice in the Parlement when L’Hépital 
and de Thou passed the royal letter, by which Charles IX. 
intrusted the Government of the kingdom to his mother, 
seconded by Antoine de Navarre as Lieutenant-General of 
. the realm—the weakest prince of his time. 

Was it not one of the strangest things of that day to 
see a whole kingdom in suspense for the Yea or Nay of a 
French citizen, risen from obscurity, and living at Geneva ? 
The Pope of Rome held in check by the Pope of Geneva ? 
The two Princes of Lorraine, once so powerful, paralyzed 
by the brief concord between the first Prince of the 
Blood, the Queen-mother, and Calvin? Is it not one of 
the most pregnant lessons that history has preserved to 
kings, a lesson that should teach them to judge of men, to 
give genius its due without any hesitation, and to seek it 
out, as Lonis XIV. did, wherever God has hidden it ? 

Calvin, whose real name was not Calvin, but Cauyin, 
was the son of a cooper at Noyon, in Picardy. Oalvin’s 
birthplace accounts to a certain degree for the obstinacy 
mingled with eccentric irritability which characterize the’ 
arbiter of the destinies of France in the sixteenth century. 
No one is less known than this man, who was the maker 
of Geneva and of the spirit of its people. Jean-Jacques 
Rousseau, who knew little of history, was utterly ignorant 
of this man’s influence on his Republic, 

At first, indeed, Calvin, dwelling in one of the humblest 
houses in the upper town, near the Protestant Church of 
Saint-Pierre, over a carpenter’s shop—one point of re- 
semblance between him and Robespierre—had no great 
authority in Geneva. His influence was for a long time 
checked by the hatred of the Genevese. , 

In the sixteenth century Geneva could boast of Farel, 
one of those famous citizens who have remained unknown 


206 Catherine de’ Medici 


to the world, some of them even to Geneva itself. In the 
year 1537, or thereabouts, this Farel attached Calvin to 
Geneva by pointing out to him that it might become the 
stronghold of a reformation more thorough than that of 
Luther. Farel and Cauvin looked on Lutheranism as an 
incomplete achievement, ineffectual, and with no hold on 
France. Geneva, lying between France and Italy, speak- 
ing the French tongue, was admirably placed for com- 
municating with Germany, Italy, and France. Calvin 
adopted Geneva as the seat of his spiritual fortunes, and 
made it the citadel of his dogmas. At Farel’s request, 
the town council of Geneva authorized Calvin to lecture 
on theology in the month of September 1538. Calvin left 
preaching to Farel, his first disciple, and patiently devoted 
himself to teaching his doctrine. His authority, which 
in the later years of his life was paramount, took long to 
establish. The great leader met with serious difficulties ; 
he was even banished from Geneva for some time in con- 
sequence of the austerity of his doctrines. There was a 
party of very good folks who clung to their old luxury 
and the customs of their fathers. But, as is always the 
case, these worthy people dreaded ridicule ; they would 
not admit what was the real object of their struggles, and 
the battle was fought over details apart from the real 
question. 

Calvin insisted on leavened bread being used for the 
Sacrament, and on there being no holy days but Sunday. 
These innovations were disapproved of at Berne and at 
Lausanne. The Genevese were required to conform to 
the ritual of Switzerland. Calvin and Farel resisted ; 
their political enemies made a pretext of this refractori- 
ness to exile them from Geneva, whence they were ban- 
ished for some years. At a later period Calvin came 
back in triumph, invited by his flock. 

Such persecution is always a consecration of moral power 
when the prophet can wait. And this return was the era 


Catherine de’ Medici 207 


of this Mahomet. Executions began, and Calvin organized 
his religious Terror. As soon as this commanding spirit 
reappeared, he was admitted to the citizenship of Geneva ; 
but after fourteen years’ residence there, he was not yet 
on the Council. At the time when Catherine was de- 
spatching a minister to treat with him, this king in the 
realm of thought had no title but that of Pastor of the 
Church of Geneva. Indeed, Calvin never had more than 
a hundred and fifty francs a year in money, fifteen hun- 
dred-weight of corn and two casks of wine for his whole 
remuneration. His brother, a tailor, kept a shop a few 
paces away from the Place Saint-Pierre, in a street where 
one of Calvin’s printing-places may still be seen. 

Such disinterestedness, which in Voltaire and Bacon 
was lacking, but which is conspicuous in the life of 
Rabelais, of Campanella, of Luther, of Vico, of Descartes, 
of Malebranche, of Spinoza, of Loyola, of Kant, and of 
Jean-Jacques Rousseau, surely forms a noble setting for 
these sublime and ardent souls. 

Robespierre’s life, so like that of Calvin, can alone 
perhaps enable our contemporaries to understand Calvin’s. 
He, founding his power on a similar basis, was as cruel 
and as tyrannical as the Arras lawyer. It is strange too 
that Picardy—Arras and Noyon—should have given to the 
world these two great instruments of reform. Those who 
examine into the motives of the executions ordered by 
Calvin will find, on a different scale, no doubt, all of 1793 
at Geneva. Calvin had Jacques Gruet beheaded ‘for 
having written impious letters and worldly verse, and la- 
bored to overthrow Church ordinances.” Just consider 
this sentence, and ask yourself if the worst despotism 
can show in its annals a more absurdly preposterous 
indictment. 

Valentin Gentilis, condemned to death for involuntary 
heresy, escaped the scaffold only by making more humilia- 
ting amends than ever were inflicted by the Catholic 


208 Catherine de’ Medici 


Church. Seven years before the conference presently te 
be held in Calvin’s house on the Queen-mother’s pro- 
posals, Michel Servent (or Servetus), a Frenchman, passing 
through Geneva, was put in prison, tried, condemned on 
Calvin’s testimony, and burnt alive for having attacked 
the mystery of the Trinity in a work which had not been 
either composed or printed at Geneva. Compare with 
this the eloquent defense of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, whose 
book, attacking the Catholic religion, written in France, 
and published in Holland, was indeed burnt by the hand 
of the executioner; but the writer, a foreigner, was only 
banished from the idgdbm, where he had been trying to 
strike at the fundamental truths of religion and govern- 
ment; and compare the conduct of the Parlement with 
that of the Genevese tyrant. 

Bolsée, again, was brought to judgment for having 
other ideas than Calvin on the subject of predestination. - 
Weigh all this, and say whether Fouquier-Tinville did 
anything worse. Calvin’s fierce religious intolerance was, 
morally speaking, more intense, more implacable, than 
the fierce political intolerance of Robespierre. On a 
wider stage than was offered by Geneva, Calvin would 
have shed more blood than the terrible apostle of political 
equality, as compared with Catholic equality. 

Three centuries earlier a monk, also a son of Picardy, 
had led the whole of Western Europe to invade the East. 
Peter the Hermit, Calvin, and Robespierre, sons of the 
same soil, at intervals of three centuries, were, in a polit- 
ical sense, the levers of Archimedes. Each in turn was 
an embodied idea finding its fulcrum in the interests of 
man. 

Calvin is, beyond doubt, the—almost unrecognized— 
maker of that dismal town of Geneva, where, only ten 
years since, a man, pointing out a carriage gate—the first 
in the town, for till then there had only been house doors 
in Geneva—said, ‘Through that gate luxury drove into 


Cachuttict de’ Media ~ 209 


Geneva.” Calvin, by the severity of his sentences and 
the austerity of his doctrine, introduced the hypocritical 
feeling that has been well called Puritanism [the nearest 
English equivalent perhaps to the French word mémerie]. 
Good conduct, according to the mémiers or puritans, lay 
in renouncing the arts and the graces of life, in eating 
well but without luxury, and in silently amassing money 
without enjoying it otherwise than as Calvin enjoyed his 
power—in fancy. 

Calvin clothed the citizens in the same gloomy livery 
as he threw over life in general. He formed in the Con- 
sistory a perfect Calvinist inquisition, exactly like the 
revolutionary tribunal instituted by Robespierre. The 
Consistory handed over the victims to be condemned by 
the Oouncil, which Calvin ruled through the Consistory 
just as Robespierre ruled the Convention through the 
Jacobin Club. Thus an eminent magistrate of Geneva 
was sentenced to two months’ imprisonment, to lose his 
office, and to be prohibited from ever filling any other, 
because he led a dissolute life and had made friends among 
Calvin’s foes. In this way Calvin was actually a legislator ; 
it was he who created the austere manners, sober, respec- 
table, hideously dull, but quite irreproachable, which have 
remained unchanged in Geneva to this day; they pre- 
vailed there indeed before the English habits were formed 
that are universally known as Puritanism, under the | 
influence of the Cameronians, the followers of Caméron, a 
Frenchman who trod in Calyin’s steps. These manners 
have been admirably described by Walter Scott. 

The poverty of this man, an absolute sovereign, who 
treated as a power with other powers, asking for their 
treasure, demanding armies, and filling his hands with 
their money for the poor, proves that the Idea, regarded 
as the sole means of dominion, begets political misers, 
men whose only enjoyment is intellectual, and who, like 
the Jesuits, love power for its own sake, Pitt, Luther, 

14 


. 


210 Catherine de’ Medici 


Calvin, and Robespierre, all these Harpagons in greed of 
dominion, died penniless. History has preserved the 
inventory made in Calyin’s rooms after his death, and 
everything, including his books, was valued at fifty 
crowns. Luther’s possessions amounted to as much ; 
indeed, his widow, the famous Catherine de Bora, was 
obliged to petition for a pension of fifty crowns bestowed 
on her by a German Elector. 

Potemkin, Mazarin, and Richelieu, men of thought and 
action, who all three founded or prepared the foundations 
of empires, each left three hundred millions of francs ; 
but these men had a heart, they loved women and the 
arts, they built and conquered ; while, with the exception 
of Luther, whose wife was the Helen of this Iliad, none 
of the others could accuse himself of ever having felt his 
heart throb for a woman. 

This brief history was needed to explain Calvin’s posi- 
tion at Geneva. 

One day early in February, 1561, on one of the mild 
evenings which occur at that time of year on the shores 
of Lake Léman, two men on horseback arrived at Pré- 
VPEvéque, so called from the ancient residence of the 
Bishop of Geneva, driven out thirty years before. These 
two men, acquainted, no doubt, with the laws of Geneva 
as to the closing of the gates, very necessary then, and 
absurd enough in these days, rode towards the Porte de 
Rives ; but they suddenly drew rein at the sight of a man 
of fifty, walking with the help of a woman-servant’s arm, 
and evidently returning to the town. This personage, 
rather stont in figure, walked slowly and with difficulty, 
dragging one foot before the other with evident pain, and 
wearing broad, laced shoes of black velvet. 

“Tt is he,” said Chaudieu’s companion, who dismounted, 
gave his bridle to the preacher, and went forward open- 
armed to meet the master. 

The man on foot, who was in fact Jean Calvin, drew 


Catherine de’ Medici | 211 


back to avoid the embrace, and cast the severest glance at 
his disciple. At the age of fifty Calvin looked like a man 
of seventy. Thick-set and fat, he seemed all the shorter 
because frightful pain from the stone obliged him to walk 
much bent. These sufferings were complicated with 
attacks of the worst form of gout. Anybody might have 
quaked at the aspect of that face, almost as broad as it 
was long, and bearing no more signs of good-nature, in 


spite of its roundness, than that of the dreadful King 


Henry VIII., whom Calvin, in fact, resembled. His 
sufferings, which never gave him a reprieve, were visible 
in two deep furrows on each side of his nose, following 
the line of his mustache, and ending, like it, in a full 
gray beard. 

This face, though red and inflamed like a drunkard’s, 
showed patches where his complexion was yellow ; still, 
and in spite of the velvet cap that covered his massive, 
broad head, it was possible to admire a large and nobly 
formed forehead, and beneath it two sparkling brown 
eyes, which in moments of wrath could flash fire. Whether 
by reason of his bulk, or because his neck was too thick 
and short, or as a consequence of late hours and incessant 
work, Calvin’s head seemed sunk between his broad 
shoulders, which compelled him to wear a quite shallow, 
pleated ruff, on which his face rested like John the Bap- 
tist’s in the charger. Between his mustache and his 
beard there peeped, like a rose, a sweet and eloquent 
mouth, small, and fresh, and perfectly formed. This 
face was divided by a square nose remarkable for its long 
aquiline outline, resulting in high-lights at the tip, signif- 
icantly in harmony with the prodigious power expressed 
in his magnificent head. 

Though it was difficult to detect in these features any 
trace of the constant headaches which tormented Calvin 
in the intervals of a slow fever that was consuming him, 
pain, constantly defied by study and a strong will, gaye 


212 | Catherine de’ Medici 


this apparently florid face a terrible tinge, attributable, no 
doubt, to the hue of the layer of fat due to the sedentary 
habits of a hard worker. It bore the marks of the per- 
-petual struggle of a sickly temperament against one of 
the strongest wills known in the history of mankind. 
Even the lips, though beautiful, expressed cruelty. A 
chaste life, indispensable to vast projects, and compulsory 
in such conditions of sickly health, had set its stamp on 
the face. There was regret in the serenity of that mighty 
brow, and suffering in the gaze of the eyes, whose calm- 
hess was a terror. 

Oalvin’s dress gave effect to his head, for he wore the 
famous black cloth gown, belted with a cloth band and 
brass buckle, which was adopted as the costume of Cal- 
vinist preachers, and which, having nothing to attract the 
eye, directed all the spectator’s attention to the face. 

, “Tam in too great pain to embrace you, Théodore,” 
said Calvin to the elegant horseman. 

Théodore de Béze, at that time two-and-forty, and, by 
Calvin’s desire, a free citizen of Geneva for two years past, 
was the most striking contrast to the terrible minister to 
whom he had given his allegiance. Calvin, like all men 
of the middle class who have risen to moral supremacy, 
like all inventors of a social system, was consumed with 
jealousy. He abhorred his disciples, would suffer no 
equal, and could not endure the slightest contradiction. 
However, between him and Théodore de Béze the differ- 
ence was so great ; this elegant gentleman, gifted with a 
charming appearance, polished, courteous, and accustomed 
to Court life, was, in his eyes, so unlike all his fierce Jan- 
issaries, that for him he set aside his usual impulses. He 
never loved him, for this crabbed lawgiver knew absolutely 
nothing of friendship ; but having no fear of finding his 
successor in him, he liked to play. with Théodore, as Rich- 
elieu at a later time played with his cat. He found him 
pliant and amusing. When hesaw that de Béze succeeded 


| Catherine de’ Medici 218 


to perfection in every mission, he took delight in the pol- 
ished tool of which he believed himself to be the soul and 
guide ; so true isit that even those men who seem most 
surly cannot live without some semblance of affection. 

Théodore was Calvin’s spoilt child. The great Reformer 
never scolded him, overlooked his irregularities, his love 
affairs, his handsome dress, and his choice language. 
Possibly Oalvin was well contentto show that the Refor- 
mation could hold its own even among Court circles. 
Théodore de Béze wanted to introduce a taste for art, let 
ters, and poetry into Geneva, and Calvin would listen to his 
schemes without knitting his grizzled brows. Thus the 
contrast of character and person was as complete as the 
contrast of mind in these two celebrated men. 

Calvin accepted Chaudieu’s very humble bow, and re- 
plied by slightly bending his head. Ohaudieu slipped the 
bridles of both horses over his right arm and followed the 
two great Reformers, keeping to the right of Théodore de — 
Béze, who was walking on Calvin’s right. Oalvin’s house- 
keeper ran forward to prevent the gate being shut, by 
telling the captain of the Guard that the Pastor had just 
had a severe attack of pain. 

Théodore de Béze was a native of the Commune of 
Vézelay, the first to demand for itself corporate govern- 
ment, of which the curious tale has been told by one of 
the Thierrys. Thus the spirit of citizenship and resistance 
which were endemic at Vézelay no doubt contributed an 
item tothe great rising of the Reformers in the person of 
this man, who is certainly a most singular figure in the’ 
history of heresy. 

**So you still suffer great pain?” said Théodore to 
Oalvin. 

‘«¢ The sufferings of the damned, a Catholic would say,” 
replied the Reformer, with the bitterness that colored his 
least remarks. ‘‘ Ah! I am going fast, my son, and what 
will become of you when I am gone ?” 


214 Catherine de’ Medici 


**We will fight by the light of your writings,” said 
Chandieu. | 

Calvin smiled ; his purple face assumed a more gracious 
expression, and he looked kindly on Chaudieu. 

**Well have you brought me any news ? ” he asked. 
** Have they killed a great many of us ?” headded, with a 
smile, and asort of mocking glee sparkled in his brown eyes. 

“No,” said Chaudieu ; “‘ peace is the order of the day.” 

*<So much the worse, so much the worse! ” cried Cal- 
vin. ‘‘ Every form of peace would be amisfortune if it 
were not always, in fact, a snare. Our strength lies in 
persecution. Where should we be if the Church took up 
the Reformation ?” 

*<TIndeed,” said Théodore, ‘‘that is what the Queen- 
mother seems inclined to do.” . 

‘© She is quite capable of it,” said Calvin. ‘‘ lam study- 
ing that woman.” 

** From hence ?” cried Chaudieu. 

** Does distance exists for the spirit? ” said Calvin se- 
verely, regarding the interruption as irreverent. ‘‘ Cath- 
erine longs for power, and women who aim at that lose all 
sense of honor and faith.—What is in the wind ?” 

«Well, she suggests a sort of Council,” said Théodore 
de Béze. 

‘« Near Paris ?” asked Calvin roughly. 

*6-Yen. 7 

«« Ah ! that is well!” said Calvin. 

«© And we are to try to come to an understanding, and 
draw up a public Act to consolidate the two Churches.” 

‘‘ Ah ! if only she had courage enough to separate the 
French Church from the court of Rome, and to create a 
patriarch in France, as in the Greek Church ! ” cried the 
Reformer, whose eyes glistened at this idea, which would 
place him ona throne. ‘‘ But, my son, can a Pope’s 
niece be truthful? She only wants to gain time.” 

«© And do not we need time to recover from our check 


Catherine de’ Medici 215 


at Amboise, and to organize some formidable resistance 
in various parts of the kingdom ?” 

** She has sent away the Queen of Scotland,” said Chan- 
dieu. 

*‘That is one less, then,” said Calvin, as they passed 
through the Porte de Rives. ‘‘ Elizabeth of England will 
keep her busy. Two neighboring queens will soon be 
fighting ; one is handsome, and the other ugly enough— 
a first cause of irritation ; and then there is the question 
of legitimacy ——” 

He rubbed his hands, and his glee had such a ferocious 
taint that de Béze shuddered, for he too saw the pool of 
blood at which his master was gazing. 

‘‘ The Guises had provoked the House of Bourbon,” 
said de Béze after a pause ; “‘ they broke the stick between 
them at Orleans.” 

“«* Ay,” said Calvin ; *‘ and you, my son, did not believe 
me when, as you last started for Nérac, I told you that 
we should end by stirring up war to the death between 
the two branches of the royal family of France. 

“So at last 1 have a court, a king, a dynasty on my 
side. My doctrine has had its effect on the masses. The 
citizen class understand me; henceforth they will call 
those who go to Mass idolaters, those who paint the walls 
of their place of worship, and put up pictures and statues 
there. Oh, the populace find it far easier to demolish 
cathedrals and palaces than to discuss justification by 
faith or the real presence! Luther was a wrangler, I am 
an army! He wasa reasoner, I am a system! He, my 
child, was but a tormentor, I am a Tarquin ! 

«‘ Yes, they of the truth will destroy churches, will 
tear down pictures, will make millstones of the statues to 
grind the bread of the people. There are bodies in great 
States, I will have only individuals ; bodies are too resis- 
tant, and see clearly when individuals are blind. 

‘‘ Now, we must combine this agitating doctrine with 


— 216 Catherine de’ Medici 


political interests, to consolidate it and to keep up the 
material of my armies. I have satisfied the logic of 
thrifty minds and thinking brains by this bare, undecorated 
worship which lifts religion into the sphere of the ideal. 
I have made the mob understand the advantages of the 
suppression of ceremonial. 

_ ** Now it is your part, Théodore, to enlist people’s in- 
terests. Do not overstep that line. In the way of doc- 
trine everything has been done, everything has been said ; 
add not one jot! Why does Caméron, that little pasteur 
in Gascony, meddle with writing ?” 

Calvin, Théodore de Béze, and Chaudieu went along the 
streets of the upper town and through the crowd, without 
any attention being paid to the men who were unchaining 
the mob in cities and ravaging France. After this terrify- 
ing harangue, they walked on in silence, till they reached 
the little square of Saint-Pierre, and made their way to- 
wards the minister’s dwelling. Oalvin’s lodging consisted 
of three rooms on the second floor of this house, which 
is hardly known, and of which no one ever tells you in 
Geneva—where, indeed, there is no statue to Calvin. The 
rooms were floored and wainscoted with pine, and on one 
side there were a kitchen and a servant’s room. Theen- 
trance, as is commonly the case in Genevese houses, was 
through the kitchen, which opened into a small room 


with two windows, parlor, dining, and drawing-room in 


one. Next to this was the study where, for fourteen years, 
Calvin’s mind had carried on the battle with pain, and be- 
yond was his bedroom. Four oak chairs with tapestry 
seats, placed round a long table, formed all the furniture 
of thesitting-room. A white earthenware stove in one 
corner of the room gave out a pleasant warmth ; paneling 
of unvarnished pine covered the walls, and there was no 
other decoration. The bareness of the place was quitein 
keeping with the frugal and simple life led by the Re- 
former. 


-~€l°s 


Catherine de’ Medici = 217 


“« Well, ” said de Béze, as he went in, taking advantage 
of a few minutes when Chandien had left them to put 
up the horses. at a neighboring inn, “ what am I to do? 
Will you agree to this meeting ?” 

“* Oertainly, ’ said Calvin. “‘ You, my son, will bear the 
brunt of the struggle. Be decisive, absolute. Nobody, 
neither the Queen, nor the Guises, nor I want pacification 
as a result; it would not suit our purpose. I have much 
confidence in Duplessis-Mornay. Give him the leading 
part. We are alone——” said he, witha suspicious glance 
into the kitchen, of which the door was open, showing two 
shirts and some collars hung to dry onaline. ‘Go and 
shut all the doors.—Well,” he went on, when Théodore 
had done his bidding, ‘‘we must compel the King of 
Navarre to join the Guises and the Connétable de Mont- 
morency, by advising him to desert Queen Catherine de’ 
Medici. Let us take ful) advantage of his weakness ; he 
is but a poor creature. If he prove a turncoat to the Ital- 
ian woman,; she, finding herself bereft of his support, 
must inevitably join the Prince de Condé and Coligny. 
Such a maneuver may possibly compromise her so effect- 
ually that she must remain on our side——” 

Théodore de Béze raised the hem of Calvin’s gown and 
kissed it. 

‘*Oh, master,” said he, ‘‘ you are indeed great !” 

‘‘ Unfortunately, Iam dying, my dear Théodore. IfI 
should die before seeing you again,” he went on, whisper- 
ing in the ear of his Minister for Foreign Affairs, “ re- 
member to strike a great blow by the hand of one of our 
martyrs.” 

«¢ Another Minard to be killed ? ” 

‘«¢ Higher than a lawyer.” 

“A king ?” 

“Higher still The man who wants to be King.” 

“The Duo de Guise!” cried Théodore, with a gesture 
of dismay. 


218 Catherine de’ Medici 


“‘ Well,” cried Calvin, fancying that he discerned re- 
fusal, or at least an instinct of resistance, and failing to 
notice the entrance of Chaudieu, ‘‘ have we not a right to 
strikeas we arestruck ? Yes, and in darkness and silence ! 
May we not return wound for wound, and death for death? 
Do the Catholics hesitate to lay snares for us and kill us ? 
I trust to you! Burn their churches. Go on, my sons! 
If you have any devoted youths——” 

*«T have,” Chaudieu put in. 

“Use them as weapons of war. To triumph, we may 
use every means. ‘The Balafré, that terrible man of war, 
is, like me, more than a man ; he isa dynasty, as I ama 
system ; he is capable of annihilating us! Death to the 
Duc de Guise !” 

‘‘T should prefer a peaceful victory, brought about by 
time and reason,” said de Béze. 

‘By time!” cried Calvin, flinging over his chair. 
««By reason! Are you mad? Conquer by reason? Do 
you know nothing of men, you who live among them— 
idiot ? What is so fatal to my teaching, thrice-dyed 
simpleton, is that it is based on reason. By the thunders 
of Saint Paul, by the sword of the Mighty! Pumpkin as 
you are, Théodore, cannot you see the power that the 
- catastrophe at Amboise has given to my reforms? Ideas 
can never grow till they are watered with blood. The 
murder of the Duc de Guise would give rise to a fearful 
persecution, and I hope for it with all my might! To us 
reverses are more favorable than success! The Reforma- 
tion can be beaten and endure, do you hear, oaf ? Whereas 
Catholicism is overthrown if we win a single battle. 

‘« What are these lieutenants of mine? Wet rags and 
not men! Guts on two legs! Christened baboons! O 
God, wilt Thou not grant me another ten years to live ? 
If I die too soon, the cause of religion is lost in the hands 
of such rascals ! 

** You are as helpless as Antoine de Navarre ! Begone ! 


Catherine de’ Medici 219 


leave me! I must have a better messenger! You are an 
ass, a popinjay, a poet! Go, write your Catullics, your 
Tibullics, your acrostics! Hoo!” 

The pain he suffered was entirely swamped by the fires 
of his wrath. Gout vanished before this fearful excite- 
ment. Calvin’s face was blotched with purple, like the 
sky before a storm. His broad forehead shone. His eyes 
flashed fire. He was not like the same man. He let him- 
self give way to this sort of epileptic frenzy, almost mad- 
ness, which was habitual with him; but, then struck by 
the silence of his two listeners, and observing Chaudieu, 
who said to de Béze, ‘‘ The burning bush of Horeb!” the 
minister sat down, was dumb, and covered his face with 
his hands, with their thickened joints, and his fingers 
quivered in spite of their strength. 

A few minutes later, while still trembling from the last 
shocks of this tempest—the result of his austere life—he 
said in a broken voice— 

“‘My vices, which are many, are less sed to subdue 
than my impatience! Ah! wild beast, shall I never con- 
quer you?” he exclaimed, striking his breast. 

** My beloved master,” said de Béze in a caressing tone, 
taking his hands and kissing them, “‘ Jove thunders, but 
he can smile.” 

Calvin looked at his disciple with a softened expression. 

**Do not misunderstand me, my friends,” he said. 

*‘T understand that the shepherds of nations have ter- 
rible burdens to bear,” replied Théodore. ‘‘ You havea 
world on your shoulders.” 

“<I,” said Chaudieu, who had become thoughtful under 
the master’s abuse, ‘‘ have three martyrs on whom we can 
depend. Stewart, who killed the President, is free——” 

“«That will not do,” said Calvin mildly, and smiling, as 
@ great man can smile when fair weather follows a storm 
on his face, as if he were ashamed of the tempest. ‘‘I know 
men. He who kills one President will not kill a second,” 


220 Catherine de’ Medici 


*« Is it absolutely necessary ?” said de Baze. 

** What, again?” cried Calvin, his nostrils expanding. 
** There, go; you will put me in a rage again. You have 
my decision.—You, Chandieu, walk in your own path, 
and keep the Paris flock together. God be with you.— 
Dinah! Light my friends out.” 

*‘ Will you not allow me to embrace you ?” said de Béze 
withemotion. ‘‘ Who can tell what the morrow will bring 
forth? We may be imprisoned in spite of safe-con- 
ducts——” 

«And yet you want to spare them!” said Calvin, em- 
bracing de Béze. 

He took Chaudieu’s hand, saying— 

‘* Mind you, not Huguenots, not Reformers: be Cal- 
vinists! Speak only of Calvinism.—Alas! this is not 
ambition, for lama dying man !—Only, everything of 
Luther’s must be destroyed, to the very names of Lutheran 
and Lutheranism.” 1 

«‘ Indeed, divine man, you deserve such honor!” cried 
Chandieu. 

“Uphold uniformity - of creed. Do not allow any 
further examination or reconstruction. If new sects arise 
from among us, we are lost.” 

To anticipate events and dismiss Théodore de Béze, 
who returned to Paris with Chaudieu, it may be said that 
Poltrot, who, eighteen months later, fired a pistol at the 
Dne de Guise, confessed, under torture, that he had been 
urged to the crime by Théodore de Béze ; however, he re- | 
tracted this statement at a later stage. Indeed, Bossuet, 
who weighed all the historical evidence, did not think 
that the idea of this attempt was due to Théodore de Béze. 
Since Bossuet, however, a dissertation of an apparently 
trivial character @ propos to a famous ballad, enabled a com- 
piler of the eighteenth century to prove that the song sung 
throughout France by the Huguenots on the death of the 
Duc de Guise was written by Théodore de Béze; and, 


(etl de’ Medici , 224 


moreover, that the well-known ballad or lament on Mal- 
brouck—the Duke of Marlborough—is plagiarized from 
Théodore de Béze.? 


‘On the day when Théodore de Béaze and Chaudieu 
reached Paris, the Court had returned thither from Reims, > 
where Charles IX. had been crowned. This ceremony, to 
which Catherine gave unusual splendor, making it the oc- 
casion of great festivities, enabled her to gather round her 
the leaders of every faction. 

After studying the various parties and interests, she saw 

a choice of two alternatives—either to enlist them on the 
side of the Throne, or to set them against each other. 
The Connétable de Montmorency, above all else a Catho- 
lic, whose nephew, the Prince de Condé was the leader of 
the Reformation, and whose children also had a leaning 
to that creed, blamed the Queen-mother for allying her- 
self with that party. The Guises, on their side, worked 
hard to gain over Antoine de Bourbon, a Prince of no 
‘strength of character, and attach him to their faction, 
and his wife, the Queen of Navarre, informed by de 
Béze, allowed this to be done. These difficulties checked 
Catherine, whose newly-acquired authority needed a brief 
period of tranquillity ; she impatiently awaited Calvin’s 
reply by de Béze and Chaudieu, sent to the great Re- 
former on behalf of the Prince de Condé the King of 
Navarre, Coligny, d’Andelot, and Cardinal de Chatillon. 

Meanwhile, the Queen-mother was true to her promises 
to the Prince de Condé. The Chancellor quashed the 
trial, in which Christophe was involved, by referring the 
case to the Paris Parlement, and they annulled the sen- 
tence pronounced by the Commission, declaring it incom- 
petent to try a Prince of the Blood. The Parlement re- 
opened the trial by the desire of the Guises and the Queen- 
mother. La Sagne’s papers had been placed in Catherine’s 

* Sea note at the end of this volume, 


222 Catherine de’ Medici 


hands, and she had burnt them. This sacrifice was the 
first pledge given, quite vainly, by the Guises to the Queen- 
mother. The Parlement, not having this decisive evi- 
dence, re-instated the Prince in all his rights, possessions, 
and honors. 

Christophe, thus released when Orleans was in all its 

excitement over the King’s accession, was excluded from 
the case, and, as a compensation for his sufferings, was 
passed as a pleader by Monsieur de Thou. 
- The Triumyirate—the coalition of interests which were 
imperiled by Catherine’s first steps in authority—was 
hatching under her very eyes. Just as in chemistry hos- 
tile elements fly asunder at the shock that disturbs their 
compulsory union, so in politics the alliance of antagonis- 
tic interests can never last long. Catherine fully under- 
stood that, sooner or later, she must fall back on the Con- 
nétable and the Guises to fight the Huguenots. The con- 
vocation, which served to flatter the vanity of the orators 
on each side, and as an excuse for another imposing cere- 
mony after that of the coronation, to clear the blood-stained 
field for the religious war that had, indeed, already begun, 
was as futile in the eyes of the Guises as it was in Ca- 
therine’s. The Catholics could not fail to be the losers ; 
for the Huguenots, under the pretence of discussion, would 
be able to proclaim their doctrine in the face of all France, 
under the protection of the King and his mother. The 
Cardinal de Lorraine, flattered by Catherine into the hope 
of conquering the heretics by the eloquence of the Princes 
of the Church, induced his brother to consent. To the 
Queen-mother six months of peace meant much. 

A trivial incident was near wrecking the power which 
Catherine was so laboriously building up. This is the 
scene as recorded by history ; it occurred on the very day 
when the envoys from Geneva arrived at the Hétel de Co- 
ligny in Rue Béthisy, not far from the Louvre. At the 
coronation, Charles IX, who was much attached to his 


Catherine de’ Medici 223 


instructor, Amyot, made him High Almoner of France. 
This affection was fully shared by the Duc d’Anjou (Henri 
III.), who also was Amyot’s pupil. 

Catherine heard this from the two Gondis on the way 
home from Reims to Paris. She had relied on this Crown 
appointment to gain her a supporter in the Church, and 
a person of importance to set against the Cardinal de Lor- 
raine ; she had intended to bestow it on Cardinal de Tour- 
non, so as to find in him, as in l’H6pital, a second crutch— 
to use her own words. On arriving at the Louvre, she 
sent forthe preceptor. Her rage at seeing the catastrophe 
that threatened her policy from the ambition of this self- 
made man—the son of a shoemaker—was such that she 
addressed him in this strange speech recorded by certain 
chroniclers— 

‘What! I can make the Guises cringe, the Colignys, 
the Montmorencys, the House of Navarre, the Prince de 
Condé, and I am to be balked by a priestling like you, 
who were not content to be Bishop of Auxerre ! ” 

Amyot excused himself. He had, in fact, asked for 
nothing ; the King had appointed him of his own free will 
to this office, of which he, a humble teacher, regarded 
himself as unworthy. 

«Rest assured, Master,” for it was by this name that 
the Kings Charles IX. and Henri III. addressed this great 
writer, ‘‘ that you will not be left standing for twenty-four 
hours unless you induce your pupil to change his mind.” 

Between death promised him in such an uncompromis: 
ing way, and the abdication of the highest ecclesiastical 
office in the kingdom, the shoemaker’s son, who had grown 
covetous, and hoped perhaps for a Cardinal’s hat, deter- 
mined to temporize. He hid in the abbey of Saint-Ger- 
main en Laye. 

At his first dinner, Charles [X., not seeing Amyot, asked 
for him. Some Guisard, no doubt, told the King what 
had passed between Amyot and the Queen-mother. 


22d Catherine de’ Mediei 


‘* What!” cried he, “has he been made away with be- 
eanse I created him High Almoner ?” 

He went off to his mother in the violent state of a child 
when one of his fancies is contravened. 

** Madame,” said he, as he entered her room, ‘“‘ did I not 
comply with your wishes, and sign the letter you asked 
of me for the Parlement, by virtue of which you govern 
my kingdom ? Did you not promise me, when you laid 
it before me, that my will should be yours? and now the 
only favor I have cared to bestow excites your jealousy.— 
The Chancellor talks of making me of age at fourteen, 
three years from hence, and you treat me as a child |—By 
God, but I mean to be King, and as much a King as my 
father and grandfather were kings!” 

The tone and vehemence with which he spoke these 
words were a revelation to Catherine of her son’s true 
character ; it was like a blow from a bludgeon on her 
heart. 

«* And he speaks thus to me,” thought she, “‘ to me, who 
made him King.”—*‘ Monsieur,” she said, ‘‘ the business 
of being King in such times as these is a difficult one, 
and you do not yet know the master minds you have to 
deal with. You will never have any true and trust- 
worthy friend but your mother, or other adherents than 
those whom she long since attached to her, and but for 
whom you would perhaps not be alive at thisday. The 
Gnuises are averse both to your position and your person, 
I would have you know. If they could sew me up ina 
sack and throw me into the river,” said she, pointing to 
the Seine, ‘‘they would do it to-night. Those Lorrainers 
feel that I am a lioness defending her cubs, and that stays 
the bold hands they stretch out to clutch the crown. To 
whom, to what is your preceptor attached ? where are his 
allies ? What is his authority ? what services can he do 
you? what weight will his words have ? Instead of gaining 
a buttress to uphold your power, you have undermined it, 


Catherine de’ Medici 925 


‘¢ The Cardinal de Lorraine threatens you ; -he plays the 
King, and keeps his hat on his head in the presence of the 
first Prince of the Blood ; was it not necessary to counter- 
balance him with another cardinal, invested with authority 
equal to his own? Is Amyot, a shoe-maker who might 
tie the bows of his shoes, the man to defy him to his face? 
—Well, well, you are fond of Amyot. You have appointed 
him! Your first decision shall be respected, my Lord ! 
But before deciding any further, have the kindness to 
consult me. Listen to reasons of State, and your boyish 
good sense will perhaps agree with my old woman’s experi- 
ence before deciding, when you know all the difficulties.” 

**You must bring back my master!” said the King, 
not listening very carefully to the Queen, on finding her 
speech full of reproofs. 

‘¢ Yes, you shall have him,” replied she. ‘‘ But not he, 
nor even that rough Oypierre, can teach you to reign.” 

‘¢ Tt is you, my dear mother,” he exclaimed, mollified by 
his triumph, and throwing off the threatening and sly ex- 


pression which Nature had stamped on his physiognomy. — 


Catherine sent Gondi to find the High Almoner. When 
the Florentine had discovered Amyot’s retreat, and the 
Bishop heard that the courtier came from the Queen, he 
was seized with terror, and would not come out of the 
Abbey. In this extremity Catherine was obliged to write 
to him himself, and in such terms that he came back and 
obtained the promise of her support, but only on condition 
of his obeying her blindly in all that concerned the King. 

This little domestic tempest being lulled, Catherine 
came back to the Louvre. It was more than a year since 
che had left it, and she now held council with her nearest 
friends as to how she was to deal with the young King, 
whom Cypierre had complimented on his firmness. 

‘¢ What is to be done ?” said she to the two Gondis, 
Ruggieri, Birague, and Chiverni, now tutor and Chan- 
cellor to the Duc d’Anjou. 

15 


~— 


226 Catherine de’ Medici 


«* First o« all,” said Birague, “ get rid of Cypierre; he 
is not a courtier, he will never fall in with your views, 
and will think he is doing his duty by opposing you.” 

** Whom can I trust ? ” cried the Queen. 

“* One of us,” said Birague. 

‘« By my faith,” said Gondi, ‘‘I promise to make the 
King as pliant as the King of Navarre.” 

** You let the late King die to save your other children; 
well, then, do as the grand Signors of Constantinople do : 
crush this one’s passions and fancies,” said Albert de 
Gondi. ‘<< He likes the arts, poetry, hunting, and a little 
girl he saw at Orleans; all this is quite enough to occupy 
him.” 

<‘ Then you would be the King’s tutor ?” said Catherine, 
to the more capable of the two Gondis. 

“Tf you will give me the necessary authority ; it might 
be well to make me a Marshal. of France and a Duke. 
Cypierre is too small a man to continue in that office. 
Henceforth the tutor of a King of France should bea 
Marshal and Duke, or something of the kind-——” 

** He is right,” said Birague. 

*‘Poetry and hunting,” said Catherine, in a dreamy 
voice. 

«¢ We will hunt and make love!” cried Gondi. 

“* Besides,” said Chiverni, ‘‘ you are sure of Amyot, who 
will always be afraid of a drugged cup in case of disobedi- 
ence, and with Gondi you will have the King in leading 
strings.” 

«* You were resigned to the loss of one son to save the 
three others and the Crown; now you must have the 
courage to keep this one occupied to save the kingdom— 
to save yourself perhaps,” said Ruggieri. 

“* He has just offended me deeply,” said Catherine. 

**He does not know how much he owes you ; and if he 
did, yon would not be safe,” Birague replied with grave 
emphasis. 


Catherine de’ Medici 227 


“Tt is settled,” said the Queen, on whom this reply had 
a startling effect ; ‘‘ you are to be the King’s governor, 
Gondi. The King must make me a return in favor of 
one of my friends for the concession I have made for that 
cowardly Bishop. But the fool has lost the Cardinal’s 
hat ; so long as I live I will hinder the Pope from fitting 
it to his head! We should have been very strong with ~ 
Cardinal de Tournon to support us. What a trio they 
would have made: he as High Almoner with PHépital 
and de Thou! As to the citizens of Paris, I mean to make 
my son coax them over, and we will lean on them.” 

And Gondi was, in fact, made a Marshal, created Duc 
de Retz and tutor to the King, within a few days. 

This little Council was just over when Cardinal de Tour- 
non came to announce to the Queen the messengers from 
Calvin. Admiral Coligny escorted them to secure them 
respectful treatment at the Louvre. The Queen sum- 
moned her battalion of maids of honor, and went into the 
_ great reception-room built by her husband, which no 

longer exists in the Louvre of our day. 

At that time the staircase of the Louvre was in the clock- 
tower. Catherine’s rooms were in the older part of the 
building, part of which survives in the Tour du Musée. 
The present staircase to the galleries was built where the 
Salle des ballets was before it. A ballet at that time meant 
a sort of dramatic entertainment performed by’ all the 
Court. 

Revolutionary prejudice led to the most ridiculous mis- 
take as to Charles IX @ propos to the Louvre. During 
the Revolution a belief defamatory of this King, whose 
character has been caricatured, made a monster of him. 
Chénier’s tragedy was written under the provocation of 
the tablet hung up on the window of the part of the palace 
that projects towards the Quay. On it were these words, 
«‘ From this window Charles IX. of execrable memory fired 
on the citizens of Paris.” It may be well to point out te 


ww 


928 Catherine de’ Medici 


future historians and studious persons that the whole of 
that side of the Louvre, now called the Old Louvre—the 
projecting wing at a right angle to the Quay, connecting 
the galleries with the Louvre, by what is called the Galerie 
d’Apollon, and the Louvre with the Tuileries by the picture 
gallery—was not in existence in the time of Charles IX. 
The principal part of the site of the river-front, where 
lies the garden known as le Jardin de l’Infante, was 
occupied by the Hétel de Bourbon, which belonged, in 
fact, to the House of Navarre. It would have been physi- 
cally impossible for Charles IX, to fire fromthe Lowvre de 
Henri IT. on « boat full of Huguenots crossing the Seine, 
thongh he could see the river from some. windows, which 
are now built up, in that part of the palace. 

Kyen if historians and libraries did not possess maps in 
which the Louvre at the time of Charles IX. is perfectly 
shown, the building bears in itself the refutation of the 
error. The several kings who have contributed to this vast 
structure have never failed to leave their cypher on the 
work insome form of monogram. The venerable buildings, 
now all discolored, of that part of the Louvre that goes 
down to the Quay bear the initials of Henri IT. and of 
Henri IV. ; quite different from those of Henri III., who 
added to his H Catherine’s double C in a way that looks 
like D to superficial observers. It was Henri IV. who was 
able to add his own palace, the Hétel de Bourbon, with its 
gardens and domain, on to the Louvre. He first thought 
of uniting Catherine de’ Medici’s palace to the Louvre by 
finishing the galleries, of which the exquisite sculpture is 
too little appreciated. 

But if no plan of Paris under Charles IX. were in 
existence, nor the monograms of the two Henrys, the 
difference in the architecture would be enough to give the 
lie to this calumny. The rusticated bosses of the Hétel 
de la Force, and of this portion of the Louvre, are precisely 
characteristic of the transition from the architecture of the 


Catherine de’ Medici 229 


Renaissance to the architecture of HenrilIII., Henri IV., 
and Louis XIII. 

This archeological digression, in harmony, be to sure, 
with the pictures at the beginning of this narrative, enables 
us to see the aspect of this other part of Paris, of which 
' nothing now remains but that portion of the Louvre, where 
the beautiful bas-reliefs are perishing day by day. 

When the Court was informed that the queen was about 
to give audience to Théodore de Béze and Chaudieu, in- 
troduced by Admiral Coligny, every one who had a right 
to go into the throne room hastened to be present at this 
interview. It was about six o’clock ; Admiral Coligny 
had supped, and was picking his teeth as he walked upstairs 
between the two Calvinists. This playing with a toothpick 
was a confirmed habit with the Admiral ; he involuntarily 
picked his teeth in the middle of a battle when meditating 
a retreat. ‘* Never trust the Admiral’s toothpick, the Con- 
stable’s ‘ No,’ or Catherine’s ‘ Yes,’”—was one of the proy- 
erbs of the Court at the time. And after the massacre of 
Saint-Bartholomew, the mob made horrible mockery of the 
Admiral’s body, which hung for three days at Montfaucon, 
by sticking a grotesque toothpick between his teeth, 
Chroniclers have recorded this hideous jest. And, indeed, 
this trivial detail in the midst of a tremendous catastrophe 
is just like the Paris mob, which thoroughly deserves this 
grotesque parody of a line of Boileau’s :— 


‘** Le Francais, né malin, créa la guillotine,” 


(The Frenchman, a born wag, invented the guillotine.) 

In all ages, the Parisians have made fun before, a 
and after the most terrible revolutions. 

Théodore de Béze was in Court dress, black silk long 
hose, slashed shoes, full trunks, a doublet of black silk, also 
slashed, and a little black velvet cloak, over which fell a 
fine white ruff, deeply gauffered. He wore the tuft of beard 
called a virgule (a comma) and a mustache, his sword 


230 Catherine de’ Medici 


hung by his side, and he carriedacane. All who know the 
pictures at Versailles, or the portraits by Odieuvre, know 
his round and almost jovial face, with bright eyes, and the 
remarkably high and broad forehead, which is characteristic 
of the poets and writers of that time. De Béze had a 
pleasant face, which did him good service. He formed a 
striking contrast to Coligny, whose austere features are 
known to all, and to the bitter and bilious-looking Chau- 
dieu, who wore the preacher’s gown and Calvinist bands. 

The state of affairs in the Chamber of Deputies in our 
own day, and that, no doubt, in the Convention too, may 
enable us to understand how at that Court and at that 
time persons, who six months after would be fighting to 
the death and waging heinous warfare, would meanwhile 
meet, address each other with courtesy, and exchange 
jests. 

When Coligny entered the room, Birague, who would 
coldly advise the massacre of Saint Bartholomew, and the 
Cardinal de Lorraine, who would tell his servant Besme 
not to miss the Admiral, came forward to meet him, and 
the Piedmontese said, with a smile— 

<‘ Well, my dear Admiral, so you have undertaken to 
introduce these gentlemen from Geneva ?” 

«* And you will count it to me for a crime perhaps,” 
replied the Admiral in jest, ‘‘ while, if you had undertaken 
it, you would have scored it as a merit.” 

<* Master Calvin, I hear, is very ill,” said the Cardinal 
de Lorraine to Théodore de Béze. ‘‘I hope we shall not 
be suspected of having stirred his broth for him! ” 

«‘ Nay, Monseigneur, you would lose too much by that,” 
said Théodore de Béze shrewdly. 

The Due de Guise, who was examining Chandieu, stared 
at his brother and Birague, who were both startled by this 
speech. 

‘By God!” exclaimed the Uardinal, ‘ heretics are of 
the right faith in keen politics!” 


Catherine de’ Medici 231 


To avoid difficulties, the Queen, who was announced at 
this moment, remained standing. She began by conversing 
with the Connétable, who spoke eagerly of the scandal of 
her admitting Calvin’s envoys to her presence. 

*‘But you see, Dy dear Constable,,we receive them 
without ceremony.’ 

‘*Madame,” said the Admiral, approaching Catherine, 
‘these are the two doctors of the new religion who have 
come to an understanding with Calvin, and have taken his 
instructions as to a meeting where the various Churches 
of France may compromise their differences.” 

‘*This is Monsieur Théodore de Béze, my wife’s very 
great favorite,” said the King of Navarre, coming forward 
and taking de Béze by the hand. 

«And here is Chaudieu!” cried the Prince de Condé. 
“‘ My friend the Duc de Guise knows the captain,” he 
added, looking at le Balafré ; ‘< perhaps he would like to 
make acquaintance with the minister.” 

* This sally made everybody laugh, even Catherine. 

“«« By my troth,” said the Duc de Guise, “‘ 1 am delighted 
to see a man who can so well choose a follower, and make 
ase of him in his degree. One of your men,” said he to 
the preacher, ‘‘ endured, without dying or confessing any- 
thing, the extreme of torture ; I fancy myself brave, but 
I do not know that I could endure so well !” 

‘‘Hm!” observed Ambroise Paré, ‘“‘ you said not a 
word when I pulled the spear out of your face at Calais.” 

Catherine, in the middle of the semicircle formed right 
and left of the maids of honor and Court officials, kept 
silence. While looking at the two famous Reformers, she 
was trying to penetrate them with her fine, intelligent, 
black eyes, and study them thoroughly. 

“*One might be the sheath and the other the blade,” 
Albert de Gondi said in her ear. 

‘‘Well, gentlemen,” said Catherine, who could not help 
smiling, ‘‘ has your master given you liberty to arrange a 


232  Qatherine de’ Medici 


public conference where you may convert to the Word of 
God those modern Fathers of the Church whoare the glory 
of our realm ?” 

«We have no master but the Lord,” said Chaudieu. 

‘¢ Well, you acknowledge some authority in the King of 
France ?” said Catherine, smiling, and interrupting the 
minister. 

«« And a great deal in the Queen,” added de Béze, bow- 
ing low. 

“ You will see,” she went on, “‘ that the heretics will be 
my most dutiful subjects.” 

‘Oh, Madame !” cried Coligny, ‘‘ what a splendid king- 
dom we will make for you! Europe reaps great profit 
from our divisions. It has seen one half of France set 
against the other for fifty years past.” 

«¢ Have we come here to hear chants in praise of here- 
tics ?” said the Connétable roughly. 

“< No, but to bring them to amendment,” answered the 
Cardinal de Lorraine in a whisper, “‘and we hope to 
achieve it by a little gentleness.” 

“‘Do you know what I should have done in the reign 
of the King’s father ?” said Anne de Montmorency. ‘I 
should have sent for the Provost to hang those two rascals 
high and dry on the Louvre gallows.” 

‘‘ Well, gentlemen, and who are the learned doctors 
you will bring into the field ?” said the Queen, silencing 
the Constable with a look. 

<‘Duplessis-Mornay and Théodore de Béze are our 
leaders,” said Chandienu. 

‘«The Court will probably go to the chatean of Saint- 
Germain ; andas it would not be seemly that this colloquy 
should take place in the same town, it shall be held in the 
little town of Poissy,” replied Catherine. 

*«¢ Shall we be safe there, Madame ?” asked Chandien. 

‘Oh !” said the Queen, with a sort of simplicity, ‘* you 
will, no doubt, know what precautions to take. Monsieur 


° 


Catherine de’ Medici 988 


the Admiral will nike arrangements to that effect with 
my cousins de Guise and Montmorency.” — 

« Fie on it all!” said the Constable ; ‘‘I will have no 
part in it.” 

The Queen took Chaudieu a little way apart. 

** What do you do to your sectarians to give them such 
a age ?” gaid she. ‘* My furrier’s son was really sub- 
lime.” . 

«« We have faith,” said Chaudieu. 

At this moment the room was filled with eager groups, 
all discussing the question of this assembly, which, from 
the Queen’s suggestion, was already spoken of as the 
««Qonvocation of Poissy.” Catherine looked at Chaudieu, 
and felt it safe to say— 

*< Yes, a new faith.” 

*¢ Ah, Madame, if you were not blinded by your connee- 
tion with the Court of Rome, you would see that we are 
returning to the true doctrine of Jesus Christ, who, while 
sanctifying the equality of souls, has given all men on 
earth equal rights.” 

‘« And do you think yourself the equal of Calvin ?” said 
Catherine shrewdly. ‘Nay, nay, we are equals only in 
church. What, really? Break all bonds between the 
people and the throne ?” cried Catherine. ‘‘ You are not — 
merely heretics ; Cane rebel against obedience to the King 
while avoiding all obedience to the Pope.” 

She sharply turned away, and returned to Théodore de 
Béze. 

‘I trust to you, Monsieur,” she said, ‘‘ to carry through 
this conference conscientiously. Take time over it.” 

“‘T fancied,” said Chaudieu to the Prince de Condé, | 
the King of Navarre, and Admiral COnaays “ that aCairs 
of State were taken more seriously.” 

**Oh, we all know exactly what we méan,” said the 
Prince de Condé, with a significant glance at Théodore de 
Béze. 


234 Catherine de’ Medici 


The hunchback took leave of his followers to keep an 
assignation. This great Prince and party leader was one 
of the most successful gallants of the Court; the two 
handsomest women of the day fought for him with such 
infatuation, that the Maréchale de Saint-André, the wife 
of one of the coming Triumvirate, gave him her fine estate 
at Saint-Valery to win him from the Duchesse de Guise, 
the wife of the man who had wanted to bring his head 
under the ax; being unable to wean the Due de Nemours 
from his flirtations with Mademoiselle de Rohan, she fell 
in love, meanwhile, with the leader of the Reformed 
party. 

*‘How different from Geneva!” said Chandieu to 
Théodore de Béze on the little bridge by the Louvre. 

‘« They are livelier here, and I cannot imagine why they 
are such traitors,” replied de Béze. 

«« Meet a traitor with a traitor-and- a-half,” said Chandieu 
ina whisper. ‘I have saints in Paris that I can rely on, 
and I mean to make a prophet of Calvin. Christophe will 
rid us of the most dangerous of our enemies.” 

*‘The Queen-mother, for whom the poor wretch en- 
dured torture, has already had him passed, by highhanded 
orders, as pleader before the Parlement, and lawyers are 
more apt to be tell-tales than assassins. Remember Aven- 
elles, who sold the secret of our first attempt to take up 
arms.” 

«But I know Christophe,” said Chaudieu, with an air 
of conviction,” as he and the Calvinist ambassador parted. 


Some days after the reception of Calvin’s secret envoys 
by Catherine, and towards the end of that year—for the 
year then began at Easter, and the modern calendar was 
not adopted till this very reign—Christophe, still stretched 
on an armchair, was sitting on that side of the large somber 
room where our story began, in such a position as to look 
out on the river. His feet rested on a stool. Mademoi- 


Citebase de’ Medici 235 


selle Lecamus and Babette Lallier had just renewed the 
application of compresses, soaked in a lotion brought by 
Ambroise, to whose care Catherine had commended Chris- 
tophe. When once he was restored to his family, the lad 
had become the object of the most devoted care. Babette, 
with her father’s permission, came to the house every 
morning, and did not leave till the evening. Christophe, 
a subject of wonder to the apprentices, gave rise in the 
neighborhood to endless tales, which involved him in poetic 
mystery. He had been put to torture, and the famous 
Ambroise Paré was exerting all his skill to save him. 
What, then, had he done to be treated so? On this point 
neither Christophe nor his father breatheda word. Cath- 
erine, now all-powerful, had an interest in keeping silence, 
and so had the Prince de Condé. The visits of Ambroise 
Paré, the surgeon to the King and to the House of Guise, 
permitted by the Queen-mother and the Princes of Lor- 
raine to attend a youth accused of heresy, added to the 
singularity of this business, which no one could see through. 
And then the priest of Saint-Pierre aux Beufs came several 
times to see his churchwarden’s son, and these visits made 
the causes of Christophe’s condition even more inexplic- 
able. 

The old furrier, who had a plan of his own, replied 
evasively when his fellows of the guild, traders, and friends 
spoke of his son— 

‘*T am very happy, neighbor, to have been able to save 
him! You know! it is well not to put your finger 
between the wood and the bark. My son put his hand to 
the stake and took out fire enough to burn my house down ! 
—They imposed on his youth, and we citizens never get 
anything but scorn and harm by hanging on to the great. 
This quite determines me to make a lawyer of my boy; 
the law courts will teach him to weigh his words and deeds. 
The young Queen, who is now in Scotland, had a great 
deal to do with it; but perhaps Christophe was very im- 


236 Catherine de’ Medici 


prudent too. I went through terrible grief.—All this will 

probably lead to my retiring from business ; I will never’ 
go to Court any more. My son has had enough of the 

Reformation now ; it has left him with broken arms and 

legs. But for Ambroise, where should I be ?” 

Thanks to these speeches and to his prudence, a report 
was spread in the neighborhood that Christophe no longer 
followed the creed of Colas. Every one thought it quite 
natural that the old Syndic should wish to see his son a 
lawyer in the Parlement, and thus the priest’s calls seemed 
quite a matter of course. In thinking of the old man’s 
woes, no one thought of his ambition, which would have 
been deemed monstrous. 

The young lawyer, who had spent ninety days on the 
bed put up for him in the old sitting-room, had only been 
out, of it for a week past, and still needed the help of 
crutches to enable him to walk. Babette’s affection and 
his mother’s tenderness had touched Christophe deeply ; 
still, having him in bed, the two women lectured him 
soundly on the subject of religion. Président de Thou 
came to see his godson, and was most paternal. Christophe, 
as a pleader in the Parlement, ought to be a Catholic, he 
would be pledged to it by his oath; and the President, 
who never seemed to doubt the young man’s orthodoxy, 
added these important words— 

«You have been cruelly tested, my boy. I myself know 
nothing of the reasons Messieurs de Guise had for treating 
you thus; but now I exhort you to live quietly henceforth, 
and not to interfere in broils, for the favor of the King and 
Queen will not be shown tosuch as brew storms. You are 
not a great enough man to drive a bargain with the King, 
like the Duke, and the Cardinal. If you want tobe coun- 
cilor in the Parlement some day, you can only attain that 
high office by serious devotion to the cause of Royalty.” 

However, neither Monsieur de Thon’s visit, nor Babette’s 
charms, nor the entreaties of Mademoiselle Lecamus his 


Catherine de’ Medici 287 


mother, had shaken the faith of the Protestant martyr. 
Christophe clung all the more stoutly to his religion in 
proportion to what he had suffered for it. 

‘My father will never allow me to marry a heretic, 
said Babette in his ear. 

Christophe replied only with tears, which left the pretty 
girl speechless and thoughtful. 

Old Lecamus maintained his dignity as a father and 4 
Syndic, watched his son, and said little. The old man, 
having got back his dear Christophe, was almost vexed 
with himself, and repentant of having displayed all his 
affection for his only son; but secretly he admired him. 
At no time in his life had the furrier pulled so many wires 
to gain his ends; for he could see the ripe harvest of the 
erop sown with so much toil, and wished to gather it all. 

A few days since he had had along conversation with 
Christophe alone, hoping to discover the secret of his son’s 
tenacity. Ohristophe, who was not devoid of ambition, 
believed in the Prince de Condé. The Prince’s generous © 
speech—which was no more than the stock-in-trade of 
princes—was stamped on his heart. He did not know 
that Condé had wished him at the devil at the moment 
when he bid him such a touching farewell through the 
bars of his prison at Orleans. 

«¢ A Gascon would have understood,” the Prince had said 
to himself. 

And in spite of his admiration for the Prince, Christophe 
cherished the deepest respect for Catherine, the great 
Queen who had explained to him in a look that she was 
compelled by necessity to sacrifice him, and then, during 
his torture, had conveyed to him in another glance an un- 
limited promise by an almost imperceptible tear. 

During the deep calm of the ninety days and nights he 
had spent in recovering, the newly-made lawyer thought 
over the events at Blois and at Orleans. He weighed, in 
spite of himself, it may be said, the influence of these twe 


238 Catherine de’ Medici 


patrons ; he hesitated between the Queen and the Prince. 
He had certainly done more for Catherine than for the Ref- 
ormation ; and the young man’s heart and mind, of course, 
went forth to the Queen, less by reason of this difference 
than becauseshe was a woman. In such a case a man will 
always found his hopes on a woman rather than on a man, 

<‘T immolated mignels for her—what will she not do for 
me? ? 3? 

This was the question he almost involuntarily asked 
himself as he recalled the tone in which she had said, 
“«« My poor boy !” 

It is difficult to conceive of the pitch of self-conscious- 
ness reached by a man alone and sickin bed. Everything, 
even the care of which he is the object, tends to make 
him think of himself alone. By exaggerating the Prince 
de Condé’s obligations to him, Christophe looked forward 
to obtaining some post at the Court of Navarre. The lad, 
a novice still in politics, was all the more forgetful of the 
‘ anxieties which absorb party leaders, and of the swift rush 
of men and events which overrule them, because he lived 
almost in solitary imprisonment in that dark parlor. Every 
party is bound to be ungrateful when itis fighting for dear 
life ; and when it has won the day, there are so many per- 
sons to be rewarded, that it is ungrateful still. The rank 
and file submit to this oblivion, but the captains turn against 
the new master who for so long has marched as their equal. 

Christophe, the only person to remember what he had 
suffered, already reckoned himself as one of the chiefs of 
the Reformation by considering himself as one of its mar- 
tyrs. Lecamus, the old wolf of trade, acute and clear- 
sighted, had guessed his son’s secret thoughts; indeed, 
all his maneuvering was based on the very natural hesitancy 
that possessed the lad. 

** Would not it be fine,” he had said the day before to 
Babette, ‘* to be the wife of a Councilor to the Parlement; 
you would be addressed as Madame.” 


Catherine de’ Medici 239 


«¢ You are crazy, neighbor,” said Lallier. <‘ In the first 
place, where would you find ten thousand crowns a year 
in landed estate, which a Councilor must show, and from 
whom could you purchase a connection? The Queen- 
mother and Regent would have’to give all her mind to it 
to get your son into the Parlement ; and he smells of the 
stake tco strongly to be admitted.” 

‘*What would you give, now, to see your daughter a 
Councilor’s wife ?” 

**You want to sound the depth of my purse, you old 
fox !” exclaimed Lallier. 

Councilor to the Parlement! The words distracted 
Christophe’s brain. 

Long after the conference was over, one morning when 
Christophe sat gazing at the river, which reminded him 
of the scene that was the beginning of all this story, of the 
Prince de Condé, la Renaudie, and Chaudieu, of his journey 
to Blois, and of all he hoped for, the Syndic came to sit 
down by his son with ill-disguised glee under an affectation 
of solemnity. 

“* My boy,” said he, ‘after what took place between 
you and the heads of the riot at Amboise, they owed you 
so much that your future might very well be cared for by 
the House of Navarre.” 

“Yes,” replied Christophe. 

«‘ Well,” his father went on, ‘‘I have definitely applied 
for permission for you to purchase a legal business in Béarn. 
Our good friend Paré undertook to transmit the letters I 
wrote in your name to the Prince de Condé and Queen 
Jeanne.—Here, read this reply from Monsieur de Pibrae, 
Vice-Chancellor of Navarre :— 


“© To Master Lecamus, Syndic of the Guild of Furriers. 


‘‘ His Highness the Prince de Condé bids me express to 
you his regret at being unable to do anything for his fellow- 
prisoner in the Tour de Saint-Aignan, whom he remembers 


240 Catherine de’ Medici 


well, and to whom, for the present, he offers the place of 
man-at-arms in his own company, where he will have the 
opportunity of making his way as a man of good heart— 
which he is. | 

‘The Queen of Navarre hopes for an occasion of re- 
warding Master Ohristophe, and will not fail. 

‘And with this, Monsieur le Syndic, I pray God have 
you in His keeping. ; PIBRAO, 

** Chancellor of Navarre. 


“* Nérac.” 


“*Nérac! Pibrac! OCrac!” cried Babette. ‘‘ There is 
nothing to be got out of these Gascons ; they think only 
of themselves.” 

Old Lecamus was looking at his son with ironical 
amusement. 

«* And he wants to set a poor boy on horseback whose 
knees and ankles were pounded up for him!” cried the 
mother. ‘* What a shameful mockery !” 

“‘T Jo not seem to see you as a Councilor in Navarre,” 
said the old furrier. 

**T should like to know what Queen Catherine would 
do for me if I petitioned her,” said Christophe, much 
crestfallen. 

«*She made no promises,” said thé old merchant, “ but 
Iam sure she would not make a fool of you, and would 
remember your sufferings. Still, how could she make a 
councilor-at-law of a Protestant citizen ?” 

‘But Christophe has never abjured!” exclaimed Ba- 
bétte. ‘‘ He may surely keep his own secret as to his 
religious opinions.” 

“The Prince de Condé would be less scornful of a 
Councilor to the Parlement of Paris,” said Lecamus. 

**A Councilor, father! Is it possible ?” 

«« Yes, if you do nothing to upset what I am managing 
for you. My neighbor Lallier here is ready to pay two 


'.  Qatherine de’ Medici — AL 


hundred thousand livres, if I add as much again, for the 
purchase of a fine estate entailed on the heirs male, which 
we will hand over to you.” 

‘¢ And I will add something more for a house in Paris,” 
- said Lallier. 

‘* Well, Christophe ?” said Babette. 

**Yon are talking without the Queen,” replied the 
young lawyer. 

Some days after this bitter mortification, an oan 
brought this brief note to Christophe— 

*¢ Chandien wishes to see his son.” 

‘«¢ Bring him in,” said Christophe. 

“‘O my saint and martyr!” cried the preacher, embrac- 
ing the young man, ‘‘ have you got over your sufferings ?” 

*< Yes, thanks to Paré!” 

**Thanks to God, who gave you strength to endure 
them! But what is this I hear? You have passed as a 
pleader, you have taken the oath of fidelity, you have 
confessed the Whore, the Catholic, Apostolic, Romish 
Church ?” 

** My father insisted.” 

‘« But are we not to leave father and mother and chil- 
dren and wife for the sacred cause of Calvinism, and to 
suffer all things ?—Oh, Christophe, Calvin, the great 
Calvin, the whole party, the whole world, the future 
counts on your courage and your greatness of soul! We 
want your life.” 

There is this strange feature in the mind of man: the 
most devoted, even in the act of devoting himself, always 
builds up a romance of hope even in the most perilous 
crisis. Thus, when on the river under the Pont au 
Change, the prince, the soldier, and the preacher had 
required Ohristophe to carry to Queen Catherine the 
document which, if discovered, would have cost him his 
life, the boy had trusted to his wit, to chance, to his per- 
spicacity, and had boldly marched on between the two 


242 Catherine de’ Medici 


formidable parties—the Guises and the Queen—who had 
so nearly crushed him. While in the torture-chamber he 
still had said to himself, ‘<1 shall live through it—it is 
only pain!” 

But at this brutal command, “ Die!” to a man who 
was still helpless, hardly recovered from the injuries he 
had suffered, and who clung all.the more to life for having 
seen death so near, it was impossible to indulge in any 
such illusions. 

Christophe calmly asked, ‘‘ What do you want of me ?” 

‘< To fire a pistol bravely, as Stewart fired at Minard.” 

“* At whom ? ” 

«The Duc de Guise.” 

«« Assassination ? ” 

“‘ Revenge !—Have you forgotten the hundred genitle- 
men massacred on one scaffold! A child, little d’Aubigné, 
said as he saw the butchery, ‘ They have beheaded all 
France.’ ” . 

*< We are to take blows and not to return them, is the 
teaching of the Gospel,” replied Christophe. ‘If we are 
to imitate the Catholics, of what use is it to reform the 
Church ?” 

«© Oh, Christophe, they have made a lawyer of you, and 
you argue!” said Chaudien. 

“‘ No, my friend,” the youth replied. ‘‘ But principles 
are ungrateful, and you and yours will only be the play- 
things of the House of Bourbon.” 

‘©Oh, Christophe, if you had only heard Calvin, you 
would know that we can turn them likea glove! The 
Bourbons are the glove, and we the hand.” ¢ 

“* Read this,” said Christophe, handing Pibrac’s letter 
to the minister. 

«¢ Alas, boy ! you are ambitious ; you can no longer sac- 
rifice yourself ;” and Chaudieu went away. 


Not long after this visit, Christophe, with the families 


. ' @atherine de’ Medici: © 248 


of Lallier and Lecamus, had met to celebrate the plight- 
ing of Babette and Christophe in the old parlor, whence 
Christophe’s couch was now removed, for he could climb 
the stairs now, and was beginning to drag himself about 
without crutches. It was nine in the evening, and they 
waited for Ambroise Paré. The family notary was sitting 
at a table covered with papers. The furrier was selling 
his house and business to his head-clerk, who was to pay 
forty thousand livres down for the house, and to mortgage 
it as security for the stock-in-trade, besides paying twenty 
thousand livres on account. 

Lecamus had purchased for his son a magnificent house 
in the Rue de Saint-Pierre aux Booufs, built of stone by 
Philibert de l’Orme, as a wedding gift. The Syndic had 
also spent two hundred and fifty thousand livres out of 
his fortune, Lallier paying an equal sum, for the acquisition 
of a fine manor and estate in Picardy, for which five hun- 
dred thousand livres were asked. This estate being a de- 
pendence of the Crown, letters patent from the King— 
called letters of rescript—were necessary, besides the pay- 
ment of considerable fines and fees. Thus theactual mar-' 
riage was to be postponed till the royal signature could be 
obtained. 

Though the citizens of Paris had obtained the right of 
purchasing manors and lands, the prudenceof the Privy 
Council had placed certain restrictions on the transfer of 
lands belonging to the Crown; and the estate on which 
Lecatnus had had his eye for the last ten years was one of 
these. Ambroise had undertaken to produce the necessary 
permission this very evening. Old Lecamus went to and 
fro between the sitting-room and the front door with an 
impatience that showed the eagerness of his ambition. 

At last Ambroise appeared. 

“‘My good friend!” exclaimed the surgeon in a great 
fuss, and looking at the supper-table, ‘‘what is your 
napery like ?—Very good.—Now bring waxlights, and 


244 Catherine de’ Medici 


make haste, make haste. Bring out the best of everything 
you have.” 

«« What is the matter ? ” asked the priest of Saint-Pierre 
aux Boufs. 

«« The Queen-mother and the King are coming to sup 
with you,” replied the surgeon. ‘‘The Queen and King 
expect to meet here an old Councilor, whose business is 
to be sold to Christophe, and Monsieur de Thou, who 
has managed the bargain. Do not look asif you expected 
them ; I stole out of the Louvre.” 

In an instant all were astir. Christopher’s mother and 
Babette’s aunt trotted about in all the flurry of house- 
wives taken by surprise. In spite of the confusion into 
which the announcement had thrown the party, prepa- 
rations were made with miraculous energy. Christophe, 
amazed, astounded, overpowered by such condescension, 
stood speechless, looking on at all the bustle. 

*«' The Queen and the King here!” said the old mother. 

‘<The Queen ?” echoed Babette ; ‘‘ but what for, what 
to do ?” 

Within an hour everything was altered ; the old room 
was smartened up, the table shone. A sound of horses 
was heard in the street. The gleam of torchec carried by 
the mounted escort brought all the neighbors’ noses to 
the windows. The rush was soon over; no one was left 
under the arcade but the Queen-mother and her son. 
King Charles IX., Charles de Gondi, Master of the Ward- 
robe, and tutor to the King ; Monsieur de Thou, the re- 
tiring Councilor; Pinard,Secretary of State, and two pages. 

“Good folks,” said the Queen as she went in, ‘“‘ the 
King, my son, and I have come to sign the marriage con- 
tract of our furrier’s son, but on condition that he re- 
mains a Catholic. Only a Catholic can serve in the Par- 
lement, only a Oatholic can own lands dependent on the 
Crown, only a Oatholic can sit at table with the King— 
what do you say, Pinard ?” 


Catherine de’ Medisi 246 


The Seoretary of State stepped forward, holding ie 
letters patent. 

‘< If we are not all Oatholics here,” said the little King, 
‘¢ Pinard will throw all the papers into the fire ; but we 
are all Catholics?” he added, looking round proudly 
enough at the company. 

«“Yes, Sire,” said Christophe Levene: bending the 
knee, not without difficulty, and kissing the hand the 
young King held ont to him. 

Queen Catherine, who also held out her hand to Chris- 
tophe, pulled him up rather roughly, and leading him 
into acorner, said— 

- “Understand, boy, no subterfuges! We are playing 
an honest game ? ” 

«Yes, Madame,” he said, dazzled by this splendid re-— 
ward and by the honor the grateful Queen had done 
him. 

** Well, then, Master Lecamus, the King, my son, and 
I permit you to purchase the offices and appointments of 
this good man Groslay, Councilor to the Parlement, who 
is here ?” said the Queen. “I hope, young man, that 
you will follow in the footsteps of your Lord the Presi- 
dent.” 

De Thou came forward and said— 

‘<T will answer for him, Madame.” 

“‘ Very well, then proceed, notary,” said Pinard. 

*‘Since the King, our master, does us the honor of 
signing my daughter’s marriage-contract,” cried Lallier, 
‘¢T will pay the whole price of the estate.” 

‘The ladies may be seated,” said the young King 
graciously. ‘‘ As a wedding gift to the bride, with my 
mother’s permission, I remit my fines and fees,” 

Old Lecamus and Lallier fell on their knees and kissed 
the boy-King’s hand. 

‘“‘ By Heaven, Sire, what loads of money these citizens 
have!” said Gondi in his ear. 


246 Catherine de’ Medici 

And the young King laughed. 

‘‘Their Majesties being so graciously inclined,” said 
old Lecamus, “ will they allow me to present to them my 
successor in the business, and grant him the royal pa- 
tent as furrier to their Majesties ?” 

“* Let us see him,” said the King, and Lecamus brought 
forward his successor, who was white with alarm. 

Old Lecamus was shrewd enough to offer the young 
King a silver cup which he had bought from Benvenuto 
Cellini when he was staying in Paris at the Tour de Nesle, 
at a cost of not less than two thousand crowns. 

**Oh, mother! what a fine piece of work!” cried the 
youth, lifting the cup by its foot. 

‘* Tt is Florentine,” said Catherine. 

** Pardon me, Madame,” said Lecamus ; ‘‘ it was made itz 
France, though bya Florentine. If it had come from 
Florence, it should have been the Queen’s; but being 
made in France, it is the King’s.” 

*‘T accept it, my friend,” cried Charles IX., “‘and 
henceforth I drink out of it.” ‘ 

‘‘It is good enough,” the Queen remarked, “‘ to be in- 
cluded among the Crown treasure.” 

** And you, Master Ambroise,” she went on in an under- 
tone, turning to the surgeon, and pointing to Christophe, 
‘‘have you cured him? Will he walk ?” 

** He will fly,” said the surgeon, with a smile. ‘* You 
have stolen him from us very cleverly !” 

«‘The abbey will not starve for lack of one monk!” 
replied the Queen, in the frivolous tone for which she hag. 
been blamed, but which lay only on the surface. 

The supper was cheerful ; the Queen thought Babette 
pretty, and, like the great lady she was, she slipped a dia- 
mond ring on the girl’s finger in compensation for the 
value of the silver cup. 

King Charles IX., who afterwards was perhaps rather 
too fond of thus invading his subjects’ homes, supped with 


Catherine de’ Medici “Ree 


a good appetite; then, on a word from his new tutor, 
who had been instructed, it is said, to efface the virtuous 
teaching of Cypierre, he incited the President of .Parle- 
ment, the old retired councilor, the Secretary of State, the 
priest, the notary, and the citizens to drink so deep, that 
Queen Catherine rose to go at the moment when she saw 
that their high spirits were becoming uproarious. 

As the Queen rose, Christophe, his father, and the twa 


women took up tapers to light her as far as the door of the 


shop. Then Christophe made so bold as to pull the 
Queen’s wide sleeve and give her a meaning look. Cath- 
erine stopped, dismissed the old man and the woman 
with a wave of her hand, and said to the young man— 
«What ?” 

«Tf you can make any use of the information, Madame,” 
said he, speaking close to the Queen’s ear, “I can tell you 
that assassins are plotting against the Duc de Guise’s life.” 

«¢ You area loyal subject,” said Catherine with a smile, 
*‘and I[ will never forget you.” 

She held out her hand, famous for its beauty, drawing 
off her glove as a mark of special favor. And Christophe, 


as he kissed that exquisite hand, was more Royalist than — 


ever. 

«*Then I shall be rid of that wretch withont my haying 
anything to do with it,” was her reflection as she put on 
her glove. 

She mounted her mule and returned to the Tocine with 
her two pages. 

Christophe drank, but he was gloomy ; Paré’s austere 
face reproached him for his apostasy ; however, later 
events justified the old Syndic. Christophe would cer- 
tainly never have escaped in the massacre of Saint-Bar- 
tholomew ; his wealth and lands would have attracted the 
butchers. History has recorded the cruel fate of the wife 
of Lallier’s successor, a beautiful woman, whose naked 
body remained hanging by the hair for three days to one 


248 Catherine de" Medici: 


of the starlings of the Pont au Change. Babette could 
shudder then as she reflected that such a fate might have 
been hers if Christophe had remained a Calvinist, as the 
Reformers were soon generally called. Calvin’s ambition 
was fulfilled, but not till after his death. 


This was the origin of the famous Lecamus family of 
lawyers. Tallemant des Réanx was mistaken in saying 
they had come from Picardy. It was afterwards to the 
interest of the Lecamus family to refer their beginnings to 
the time when they had acquired their principal estate, 
situated in that province. 

Christophe’s son, and his successor under Louis XIII., 
was father of that rich Président Lecamus, who in Louis | 
XIV.’s time built the magnificent mansion which divided 
with the Hétel Lambert the admiration of Parisians and 
foreigners, and which is certainly one of the finest build- 
_ ings in Paris. This house still exists in the Rue de Tho- 
rigny, though it was pillaged at the beginning of the 
Revolution, as belonging to Monsieur de Juigné, Arch- 
bishop of Paris. All the paintings were then defaced, and 
the lodgers who have since dwelt there have still further 
damaged it. This fine residence, earned in the old house 
in the Rue de la Pelleterie, still shows what splendid 
results were then the outcome of family spirit. We may 
be allowed to doubt whether modern individualism, result- 
ing from the repeated equal division of property, will ever 
raise sueh edifices, 


PART IL 


THE RUGGIERI'S SECRET. 


BETWEEN eleven o’clock and midnight, towards the end 
of October 1573, two Florentines, brothers, Albert de 
Gondi, Marshal of France, and Charles de Gondi la Tour, 
Master of the Wardrobe to King Charles IX., were sitting 
at the top of a house in the Rue Saint-Honoré on the edge 
of the gutter. Such gutters were made of stone; they 
rang along below the roof to catch the rain-water, and 
were pierced here and there with long gargoyles carved in 
the form of grotesque creatures with gaping jaws. In 
spite of the zeal of the present generation in the destruo- 
tion of ancient houses, there were still in Paris many such 
gutter-spouts when, not long since, the police regulations 
as to waste-pipes led to their disappearance. A few sculp- 
tured gutters are still to be seen in the Saint-Antoine 
quarter, where the low rents have kept owners from add- 
ing rooms in the roof. 

It may seem strange that two persons invested with such 
important functions should have chosen a perch more 
befitting cats. But to any one who has hunted through 
the historical curiosities of that time, and seen how many 
interests were complicated about the throne, so that the 
domestic politics of France can only be compared to a 
tangled skein of thread, these two Florentines are really 
cats, and quite in their place ina gutter. The devotion to 
the person of Catherine de’ Medici, who had transplanted 
them to the French Court, required them to shirk none of 
the consequences of their intrusion there. 


250 Catherine de’ Medici 


But to explain how and why these two courtiers were 
perched up there, it will be necessary to relate a scene 
which had just taken place within a stone’s throw of this 
gutter, at the Louvre, in the fine brown room—which is, 
perhaps, all that remains of Henri. Il.’s apartments— 
where the Court was in attendance after supper on the 
two Queens and the King. At that time middle-class 
folk supped at six o’clock, and men of rank at seven ; but 
people of exquisite fashion supped between eight and 
nine ; it was the meal we nowadays call dinner. 

Some people have supposed that etiquette was the inven- 
tion of Louis XIV. ; but this is a mistake ; it was intro- 
duced into France by Catherine de’ Medici, who was so 
exacting that the Connétable Anne de Montmorency had 
more difficulty in obtaining leave to ride into the courtyard 
of the Louvre than in winning his sword, and even then 
the permission was granted only on the score of his great 
age. Etiquette was slightly relaxed under the first three 
Bourbon Kings, but assumed an Oriental character under 
Louis the Great, for it was derived from the Lower Em- 
pire, which borrowed it from Persia. In 1573 not only 
had very few persons a right to enter the courtyard of the 
Louvre with their attendants and torches, just as in Louis 
XIV.’s time only dukes and peers might drive under the 
porch, but the functions which gave the privilege of at- 
tending their Majesties after supper could easily be counted. 
The Maréchal de Retz, whom we have just seen keeping 
watch on the gutter, once offered a thousand crowns of 
that day to the clerk of the closet to get speech of Henry 
IIT. at an hour when he had no right of entrée. And how 
a certain venerable historian mocks at a view of the court- 
yard of the chateau of Blois, into which the draughtsman 
introduced the figure of a man on horseback ! 

At this hour, then, there were at the Louvre none but 
the most eminent persons in the kingdom. Queen Eliza- 
beth of Austria and her mother-in-law, Catherine de’ 


Catherine de’ Medici fc KOR 


Medici, were seated to the left of the fireplace. In the 
opposite corner the King, sunk in his armchair, affected 
an apathy excusable on the score of digestion, for he had 
eaten like a prince returned from hunting. Possibly, too, 
he wished to avoid speech in the presence of so many per- 
sons whose interest it was to detect his thoughts. 

The courtiers stood, hat in hand, at the further end of 
the room. Some conversed in undertones; others kept 
an eye on the King, hoping for a glance or a word. One, 
being addressed by the Queen-mother, conversed with her 
for a few minutes. Another would be so bold as to speak 
a word to Charles IX., who replied with a nod or a short 
answer. A German noble, the Count of Solern, was 
standing in the chimney corner by the side of Charles V.’s 
granddaughter, with whom he had come to France. Near 
the young Queen, seated on a stool, was her lady-in-wait- 
ing, the Countess Fieschi, a Strozzi, and related to Cath- 
erine. The beautiful Madame de Sauves, a descendant of 
Jacques Coeur, and mistress in succession of the King of 
Navarre, of the King of Poland, and of the Duc d’Alengon 
had been invited to supper, but she remained standing, 
her husband being merely a Secretary of State. Behind 
these two ladies were the two Gondis, talking to them. 
They alone were laughing of all the dullassembly. Gondi,. 
made Duc de Retz and Gentleman of the Bedchamber, 
since obtaining the Marshal’s baton though he had never 
commanded an army, had been sent as the King’s proxy 
to be married to the Queen at Spires. This honor plainly 
indicated that he, like his brother, was one of the few 
persons whom the King and Queen admitted to a certain 
familiarity. 

On the King’s side the most conspicuous figure was the 
Maréchal de Tavannes, who was at Court on business; 
Neufville de Villeroy, one of the shrewdest negotiators of 
the time, who laid the foundation of the fortunes of his 
family ; Messieurs de Birague and de Chiverni, one in 


252 Catherine de" Mediai 


 tendance on the Queen-mother, the other Chancellor of 


Anjou and of Poland, who, knowing Catherine’s favor- 
itism, had attached himself to Henry LIL, the brother 
whom Charles IX. regarded as an enemy; Strozzi, a 
cousin of Queen Catherine’s, and a few more gentlemen, 
among whom were to be noted the old Cardinal de Lor- 
raine, and his nephew, the young Duc de Guise, both very 
much kept at a distance by Catherine and by the King. 
These two chiefs of the Holy Alliance, afterwards known 
as the League, established some years since with Spain, 
made a display of the submission of servants who await 
their opportunity to become the masters; Catherine and 
Charles IX. were watching each other with mutual atten- 
tion. 

At this Court—as gloomy as the room in which it had 
assembled—each one had reasons for sadness or absence of 
mind. The young Queen was enduring all the torments 
of jealousy, and disguised them ineffectually by attempt- 
ing to smile at her husband, whom she adored as a pious 
woman of infinite kindness. Marie Touchet, Charles IX.’s 
only mistress, to whom he was chivalrously faithful, had 
come home a month since from the chdteau of Fayet, in 
Dauphiné, whither she had retired for the birth of her 
ehild ; and she had brought back with her the only son 
Charles IX. ever had—Charles, at first Comte d'Auvergne, 
and afterwards Duc d’Angouléme. 

Besides the grief of seeing her rival the mother of the 
King’s son, while she had only adaughter, the poor Queen 
was enduring the mortification of complete desertion. 
During his mistress’s absence, the King had made it up - 
with his wife with a vehemence which history mentions as 
one of the causes of his death. Thus Marie Touchet’s re- 
turn made the pious Austrian princess understand how little 
her husband’s heart had been concerned in his love-making. 
Nor was this the only disappointment the young Queen had 
to endurein this matter ; till now Catherine de’ Medici had 


Catherine de’ Medici | 258 


seemed to be her friend ; but, in fact, her mother-in-law, 
for political ends, had encouraged her son’s infidelity, and 
preferred to support the mistress rather than the wife. 
And this is the reason why. ; 

When Charles IX. first confessed his passion for Marie 
Touchet, Catherine looked with favor on the girl for rea- 
sons affecting her own prospects of dominion. Marie 
Touchet was brought to Court at a very early age, at the 
time of life when a girl’s best feelings are in their bloom ; 
she loved the King passionately for his own sake. Ter- 
rified at the gulf into which ambition had overthrown the 
Duchesse de Valentinois, better known as Diane de Poi- 
tiers, she was afraid too, no doubt, of Queen Catherine, 
and preferred happiness to splendor. She thought per- 
haps that a pair of lovers so young as she and the King 
were could not hold their own against the Queen-mother. 

And, indeed, Marie, the only child of Jean Touchet, the 
lord of Beauvais and le Quillard, King’s Councillor, and 
Lieutenant of the Bailiwick of Orleans, halfway between 
the citizen class and the lowest nobility, was neither alto- 
gether a noble nor altogether dourgeoise, and was probably 
ignorant of the objects of innate ambition aimed at by 
the Pisseleus and the Saint-Valliers, women of family 
who were struggling for their families with the secret 
weapons of love. Marie Touchet, alone, and of no rank, 
spared Catherine de’ Medici the annoyance of finding in 
her son’s mistress the daughter of some great house who 
might have set up for her rival. 

Jean Touchet, awit in his day, to whom some poets 
dedicated their works, wanted nothing of the Oourt. 
Marie, a young creature, with no following, as clever and 
well informed as she was simple and artless, suited the 
Queen-mother to admiration, and won her warm affection. 

In point of fact, Catherine persuaded the Parlement to 
acknowledge the son which Marie Touchet bore to the 
King in the month of April, and she granted him the 


/ 


254 Cathenns/abt Medic: 


title of Comte d’Auvergne, promising the King that she 
would leave the boy her personal estate, the Coméés of Au- 
vergne and Lauraguais. Afterwards, Marguerite, Queen 
of Navarre, disputed the gift when she became Queen of 
France, and annulled it ; but later still, Louis XIII., out 
of respect to the Royal blood of the Valois, indemnified 
the Comte d’Auvergne by making him Duc d’Angou- 
léme. 

Catherine had already given Marie Touchet, who asked 
for nothing, the manor of Belleville, an estate without a 
title, near Vincennes, whither she came when, after hunt- 
ing, the King slept at that Royal residence. Charles IX. 
spent the greater part of his later days in that gloomy 
fortress, and, according to some authors, ended his days 
there as Louis XII. had ended his. Though it was very 
natural that a lover so entirely captivated should lavish on 
the woman he adored fresh proofs of affection when he 
had to expiate his legitimate infidelities, Catherine, after 
driving her son back to his wife’s arms, certainly pleaded 
for Marie Touchet as women can, and had won the King 
back to his mistress again. Whatever could keep Charles 
IX. employed in anything but politics was pleasing to 
Catherine ; and the kind intentions she expressed towards 
this child for the moment deceived Charles IX., who was 
beginning to regard her as his enemy. 

The motives on which Catherine acted in this business 
escaped the discernment of the Queen, who, according 
to Brantéme, was one of the gentlest Queens that ever 
reigned, and who did no harm nor displeasure to any one, 
even reading her Hours in secret. But this innocent 
Princess began to perceive what gulfs yawn round a 
throne, a terrible discovery which might well make her 
feel giddy ; and some still worse feeling must have in- 
spired her reply to one of her ladies, who, at the King’s 
death, observed to her that ifshe had had a son, she would 
be Queen-mother and Regent— 


Catherine de’ Medici 955 


‘Ah, God be praised that He never gave me a son! 
What would have come of it? The poor child would have 
been robbed, as they tried to rob the King my husband, 
and I should have been the cause of it.—God has had 
mercy on the kingdom, and has ordered everything for the 
best.” 

This Princess, of whom Brantéme thinks he has given 
an ample description when he had said that she had a 
complexion of face as fine and delicate as that of the 
ladies of her Court, and very pleasing, and that she had a 
beautiful shape though but of middle height, was held of 
small account at the Court; and the King’s state affords 
ing her an excuse for her double grief, her demeanor 
added to the gloomy hues of a picture to which a young 
Queen less cruelly stricken than she was might have given 
some brightness. ‘The pious Elizabeth was at this crisis a 
proof of the fact that qualities which add luster to a woman 
in ordinary life may be fatal in a Queen. A Princess 
who did not devote her whole night to prayer would have 
been a valuable ally for Charles [X., who found no help 
either in his wife or in his mistress. 

As to the Queen-mother, she was absorbed in watching 
the King ; he during supper had made a display of high 
spirits, which she interpreted as assumed to cloak some 
plan against herself. Such sudden cheerfulness was in 
too strong a contrast to the fractious humor he had be- 
trayed by his persistency in hunting, and by a frenzy of 
toil at his forge, where he wrought iron, for Catherine to 
be duped by it. Though she could not guess what states- 
man was lending himself to these schemes and plots—for 
Charles IX. could put his mother’s spies off the scent— 
Catherine had no doubt that some plan against her was in 
the wind. 

The unexpected appearance of Tavannes, arriving at 
the same time as Strozzi, whom she had summoned, had 
greatly aroused her suspicions. By her power of organi- 


256 Gatharinesde’ Medeor oo. : 


zation Catherine was superior to the evolution of circum- 
stances ; but against sudden violence she was powerless. 

As many persons know nothing of the state. of affairs, 
complicated by the multiplicity of parties which then 
, racked France, each leader having his own interests in 
"view, it is needful to devote a few words to describing the 
dangerous crisis in which the Queen-mother had become 
entangled. And as this will show Catherine de’ Medici in 
a new light, it will carry us to the very core of this narra- 
tive. 

Two words will fully summarize this strange woman, so 
interesting to study, whose influence left such deep traces 
on France. These two words are dominion and astrology. 
Catherine de’ Medici was excessively ambitious ; she had 
no passion but for power. Superstitious and fatalist, as 
many a man of superior mind has been, her only sincere 
belief was in the occult sciences. Without this twefold 
light, she must always remain misunderstood ; and by 
giving the first place to her faith in astrology, a light will 
be thrown on the two philosophical figures of this Study. 

There was a man whom Catherine clung to more than 
to her children ; this man was Cosmo Ruggieri. She gave 
him rooms in her Hétel de Soissons ; she had made him 
her chief counselor, instructing him to tell her if the stars 
ratified the advice and common-sense of her ordinary ad- 
visers. 

Certain curious antecedent facts justified the power 
which Ruggieri exerted over his mistress till her latest 
breath. One of the most learned men of the sixteenth 
century was beyond doubt the physician to Catherine’s 
father, Lorenzo de’ Medici, Duke of Urbino. This leech 
was known as Ruggiero the elder (vecchio Ruggiter, and in | 
French Roger ? Ancien, with authors who haye written con- 
cerning alchemy), to distinguish him from his two sons, 
Lorenzo Ruggiero, called the Great by writers on the Cabala, 
and Cosmo Ruggiero, Catherine’s astrologer, also known 


Catherine de’ Medici 257 


as Roger by various French historians. French custom 
altered their name to Ruggieri, as it did Catherine’s from 
Medici to Medicis. 

The elder Ruggieri, then, was so highly esteemed by 
the family of the Medici that the two Dukes, Cosmo and 
Lorenzo, were godfathers to his sons. In his capacity of 
mathematician, astrologer, and physician to the Ducal 
House—three offices that were often scarcely distinguished 
—he cast the horoscope of Catherine’s nativity, in con- 
cert with Bazile, the famous mathematician. At that 
period the occult sciences were cultivated with an eager- 
ness which may seem surprising to the skeptical spirits 
of this supremely analytical age, who perhaps may find in 
this historical sketch the germ of the positive sciences 
which flourish in the nineteenth century—bereft, how- 
ever, of the poetic grandeur brought to them by the 
daring speculators of the sixteenth ; for they, instead of 
applying themselves to industry, exalted art and vivified 
thought. The protection universally granted to these 
sciences by the sovereigns of the period was indeed justi- 
fied by the admirable works of inventors who, starting 
from the search for the magnum opus, arrived at astonish- 
ing results. { 

Never, in fact, were rulers more curious for these mys- 
teries. The Fugger family, in whom every modern Lu- 
cullus must recognize his chiefs, and every banker his 
masters, were heyond a doubt men of business, not to be 
caught nodding ; well, these practical men, while lending 
the capitalized wealth of Europe to the sovereigns of thé 
sixteenth century—who ran into debt quite as handsomely 
as those of to-day—these illustrious entertainers of Charles 
V. furnished funds for the retorts of Paracelsus. At the 
beginning of the sixteenth century, Ruggieri the elder 
was the head of that secret college whence came Cardan, 
Nostradamus, and Agrippa, each in turn physician to 
the Valois; and all the astronomers, astrologers, and al- 

17. 


_—e 


258 Catherine de’ Medici 


chemists who at that period crowded to the Courts of the 
Princes of Christendom, and who found especial welcome 
and protection in France from Catherine de’ Medici. 

In the horoscope cast for Catherine by Bazile and Rug- 
gieri the elder, the principal events of her life were pre- 
dicted with an accuracy that is enough to drive disbe- 
lievers to despair. This forecast announced the disasters 
which, during the siege of Florence, affected her early life, 
her marriage with a Prince of France, his unexpected acces- 
sion to the throne, the birth and the number of her children. 
Three of her sons were to reign in succession, her two 
daughters were to become queens ; all were to die childless. 
And this was all so exactly verified, that many historians 
have regarded it as a prophecy after the event. 

It is well known that Nostradamus brought to the 
chateau of Chaumont, whither Catherine went at the time 
of la Renaudie’s conspiracy, a woman who had the gift of 
reading thefuture. Nowin thetime of Francis II., when 
the Queen’s sons were still children and in good health, 
before Elizabeth de Valois had married Philip II. of Spain, 
or Marguerite de Valois had married Henri de Bourbon, 
King of Navarre, Nostradamus and this soothsayer con- 


‘firmed all the details of the famous horoscope. 


This woman, gifted no doubt with second sight, and 
one of the extensive association of indefatigable inquirers 
for the magnum opus, though her life has evaded the ken 
of history, foretold that the last of these children to wear 
the crown would perish assassinated. Having placed the 
Queen in front of a magical mirror in which a spinning- 
wheel was reflected, each child’s face appearing at the end 
of a spoke, the soothsayer made the wheel turn, and the 
Queen counted the number of turns. Each turn was a 
year of a reign. When Henri IV. was placed on the 
wheel, it went round twenty-two times. The woman— 
some say it was a man—told the terrified Queen that 
Henri de Bourbon would certainly be King of France, 


Catherine de’ Medici 259 


and reign so many years. Queen Catherine vowed a 
mortal hatred of the Béarnais on hearing that he would 
succeed the last, murdered Valois. 

Curious to know what sort of death she herself would 
die, she was warned to beware of Saint-Germain. Thence- 
forth, thinking that she would be imprisoned or violently 
killed at the chateau of Saint-Germain, she never set foot 
in it, though, by its nearness to Paris, it was infinitely better 
situated for her plans than those where she took refuge 
with the King in troubled times. When she fell ill, a 
féw days after the Duc de Guise was assassinated, during 
the assembly of the States-General at Blois, she asked 
the name of the prelate who came to minister to her. 
She was told that his name was Saint-Germain. 

**T am a dead woman !” she cried. 

She died the next day, having lived just the number of 
years allotted to her by every reading of her horoscope. 

This scene, known to the Cardinal de Lorraine, who as- 
cribed it to the Black Art, was being realized ; Francis II. 
had reigned for two turns only of the wheel and Charles IX. 
was achieving his last. When Catherine spoke these 
strange words to her son Henri as he set out for Poland, 
“You will soon return!” they must be ascribed to her 
faith in the occult sciences, and not to any intention of 
poisoning Charles IX. Marguerite de France was now 
Queen of Navarre; Elizabeth was Queen of Spain ; the 
Due d’Anjou was King of Poland. 

Many other circumstances contributed to confirm Cath- 
erine’s belief in the occult sciences. On the eve of the 
tournament where Henri II. was mortally wounded, Cath- 
erine saw the fatal thrust ina dream. Her astrological 
council, consisting of Nostradamus and the two Ruggieri, 
had foretold the King’s death. History has recorded 
Catherine’s earnest entreaties that he should not enter the 
lists. The prognostic, and the dream begotten of the 
prognostic, were verified. 


260 Catherine de’ Medici 


The chronicles of the time relate another and not less 
strange fact. The courier who brought news of the victory 
of Moncontour arrived at night, having ridden so hard 
that he had killed three horses. The Queen-mother was 
roused, and said, “‘ I knew it.” 

“In fact,” says Brantéme, ‘‘she had the day before an- 
nounced her son’s succsss and some details of the fight.” 

The astrologer attached to the House of Bourbon foretold 
that the youngest of the Princes in direct descent from 
Saint-Louis, the son of Antoine de Bourbon, would be 
King of France. This prophecy, noted by Sully, was ful- 
filled precisely as described by the horoscope, which made 
Henri IV. remark that by dint of lies these astrologers 
hit on the truth. 

Be this as it may, most of the clever men of the time be- 
lieved in the far-reaching “science of the Magi,” as it 
was called by the masters of astrology—or sorcery, as it 
was termed by the people—and they were justified by the 
verification of horoscopes. 

It was for Cosmo Ruggieri, her mathematician and as- 
trologer—her wizard, if you will—that Catherine erected 
the pillar against the corn-market in Paris, the only re- 
maining relic of the Hétel de Soissons. Cosmo Rug- 
gieri, like confessors, had a mysterions influence which 
satisfied him, as it does them. His secret ambition, too, 
was superior to that of vulgar minds. This man, depicted 
. by romance-writers and playwrights as a mere juggler, 
held the rich abbey of Saint-Mahé in Lower Brittany, and 
had refused high ecclesiastical preferment ; the money he 
derived in abundance from the superstitious mania of the 
time was sufficient for his private undertakings ; and the 
Queen’s hand, extended to- protect his head, preserved 
every hair of it from harm. 

As to Catherine’s devourmg thirst for dominion, her 
desire to acquire power was so great that, in order to grasp 
it, she could ally herself with the Guises, the enemies of 


Catherine de’ Medici 261 


the throne; and to keep the reins of State in her own 
hands, she adopted every means, sacrificing her friends 
and even her children. This woman could not live with- 
out the intrigues of rule, as a gambler cannot live with- 
out the excitement of play. Though she was an Italian 
and a daughter of the luxurious Medici, the Calvinists, | 
though they calumniated her plentifully, never accused 
her of having a lover. 

Appreciating the maxim “ Divide to reign,” for twelve 
years she had been constantly playing off one force against 
another. As soon as she took the reigns of government 
into her hands, she was compelled to encourage discord to 
neutralize the strength of two rival Houses and save the 
throne. This necessary system justified Henri II.’s fore- 
sight. Catherine was the inventor of the political see- 
saw, imitated since by every Prince who has found him- 
self in a similar position ; she upheld by turns, the Cal- 
vinists against the Guises, and the Guises against the 
Calvinists. Then, after using the two creeds to check 
each other in the heart of the people, she set the Duc 
d’Anjou against Charles IX. After using things to coun- 
teract each other, she did the same with men, always 
keeping the clue to their interests in her own hands. 

But in this tremendous game, which requires the head 
of a Louis XI. or a Louis XVIII., the player inevitably is 
the object of hatred to all parties, and is condemned to 
win unfailingly, for one lost battle makes every interest 
his enemy, until indeed by dint of winning he ends by 
finding no one to play against him. The greater part of 
Charles IX.’s reign was the triumph of the domestic policy 
carried out by this wonderful woman. What extraordinary 
skill Catherine must have brought into play to get the 
chief command of the army given to the Duc d’Anjon, 
under a brave young King thirsting for glory, capable and 
generous—and in the face of the Connétable Anne de 
Montmorency! The Duc d’Anjou, in the eyes of all 


262 Catherine de’ Medici 


Europe, veaped the honors of Saint-Bartholomew’s Day, 
while Charles IX. had all the odium. After instilling 
into the King’s mind a spurious and covert jealousy of his 
brother, she worked upon this feeling so as to exhaust 
Charles IX.’s really fine qualities in the intrigues of rivalry 
with his brother. Cypierre, their first tutor, and Amyot, 
Charles IX.’s preceptor, had made their royal charge so 
noble a man, and had laid the foundations of so great a 
reign, that the mother hated the son from the very first 
day when she feared to lose her power after having con- 
quered it with so much difficulty. 

These facts have led certain historians to believe that 
the Queen-mother had a preference for Henri III. ; but 
her behavior at this juncture proves that her heart was 
absolutely indifferent towards her children. The Duc 
d’Anjou, when he went to govern Poland, robbed her of 
the tool she needed to keep Charles IX.’s mind fully oc- 
cupied by these domestic intrigues, which had hitherto 
neutralized his energy by giving food to his vehement 
feelings. Catherine then hatched the conspiracy of la 
Mole and Coconnas, in which the Duc d’Alengon had 
a hand ; and he, when he became Duc d’Anjou on his 
brother’s being made King, lent himself very readily to 
his mother’s views, and displayed an ambition which was 
encouraged by his sister Marguerite, Queen of Navarre. 

This plot, now ripened to the point which Catherine 
desired, aimed at putting the young Duke and his brother- 
in-law, the King of Navarre, at the head of the Calvinists, 
at seizing Charles IX., thus making the King, who had 
no heir, a prisoner, and leaving the throne free for the 
Duke, who proposed to establish Calvinism in France. 
Only a few days before his death, Calvin had won the 
reward he hoped for—the Reformed creed was called 
Calvinism in his honor. 

La Mole and Coconnas had been arrested fifty days be- 
fore the night on which this scene opens, to be beheaded 


Catherine de’ Medici 268 


in the following April; and if le Laboureur and other 
judicious writers had not amply proved that they were 
the victims of the Queen-mother, Cosmo Ruggieri’s par- 
ticipation in the affair would be enough to show that she 
secretly directed it. This man, suspected and hated by 
the King for reasons which will be presently sufficiently 
explained, was implicated by the inquiries. He admitted 
that he had furnished la Mole with an image representing 
the King and stabbed to the heart with two needles. 
This form of witchcraft was at that time a capital crime. 
This kind of bedevilment (called in French envodter, from 
the Latin vultus, it is said) represented one of the most 
infernal conceptions that hatred could imagine, and the 
word admirably expresses the magnetic and terrible process 
earried on, in occult science, by constantly active malevo- 
lence on the person devoted to death ; its effects being in- 
cessantly suggested by the sight of the wax figure. The 
law at that time considered, and with good reason, that the 
idea thus embodied constituted high treason. Charles IX. 
desired the death of the Florentine; Catherine, more 
powerful, obtained from the Supreme Court, through the 
intervention of her Councilor Lecamus, that her astrolo- 
ger should be condemned only to the galleys. As soon as 
the: King was dead, Ruggieri was pardoned by an edict 
of Henri III.’s, who reinstated him in his revenues and 
received him at Court. 


Catherine had, by this time, struck so many blows on 
her son’s heart, that at this moment he was only anxious 
to shake off the yoke she had laid on him. Since Marie 
Touchet’s absence, Charles [X., having nothing to occupy 
him, had taken to observing very keenly all that went on 
around him. He had set very skilful snares for certain 
persons whom he had trusted, to test their fidelity. He 
had watched his mother’s proceedings, and had kept her 
in ignorance of his own, making use of all the faults she 


264 Catherine de’ Medici 


had inculcated in order to deceive her. Eager to efface 
the feeling of horror produced in France by the massacre 
of Saint-Bartholomew, he took an active interest in public 
affairs, presided at the council, and tried by well-planned 
measures to seize the reins of government. Though the 
Queen might have attempted to counteract her son’s en- 
deavors by using all the influence that maternal authority 
and her habit of dominion could have over his mind, the 
downward course of distrust is so rapid that, at the first 
leap the son had gone too far to be recalled. 

On the day when his mother’s words to the King of 
Poland were repeated to Charles IX., he already felt so 
ill that the most hideous notions dawned on his mind; 
and when such suspicions take possession of a son and a 
King nothing can remove them. In fact, on his death- 
bed his mother was obliged to interrupt him, exclaiming, 
“Do not say that, Monsieur!” when Charles IX., in- 
trusting his wife and daughter to the care of Henri IV., 
was about to put him on his guard against Catherine. 

Though Charles IX. never failed in the superficial 
respect of which she was so jealous, and she never called 
the Kings, her sons, anything but Monsieur, the Queen- 
mother had, for some months past, detected in Charles’ 
manner the ill-disguised irony of revenge held in suspense. 
But he must be a clever man who could deceive Catherine. 
She held in her hand this conspiracy of the Duc d’Alen- 
gon and la Mole, so as to be able to divert Charles’s efforts 
at emancipation by this new rivalry of a brother; but 
before making use of it, she was anxious to dissipate the 
want of confidence which might make her reconciliation 
with the King impossible—for how could he leave the 
power in the hands of a mother who was capable of poison- 
ing him ? 

Indeed, at this juncture she thought herself so far in 
danger that she had sent for Strozzi, her cousin, a soldier 
famous for his death. She held secret councils with Bi- 


Catherine de’ Medici 265 
rague and the Gondis, and never had she so frequently con- 
sulted the oracle of the Hétel de Soissons. . 

Though long habits of dissimulation and advancing 
years had given Catherine that Abbess-like countenance, 
haughty and ascetic, expressionless and yet deep, reserved 
but scrutinizing, and so remarkable for any student of her 
portraits, those about her perceived a cloud over this cold, 
Florentine mirror. No sovereign was ever a more impos- 
ing figure than this woman had made herself since the 
day when she had succeeded in coercing the Guises after 
the death of Francis II. Her black velvet hood, witha 
peak over the forehead, for she never went out of mourn- 
ing for Henri II., was, as it were, a womanly cowl round 
her cold, imperious features, to which she could, however, 
on occasion, give insinuating Italian charm. She was so 
well made, that she introduced the fashion for women to 
ride on horseback in such a way as to display their legs ; 
this is enough to prove that hers were of perfect form. 
Every lady in Europe thenceforth rode on a side-saddle, a 
la planchette, for France had long set the fashions. 

To any one who can picture this impressive figure, the 
scene in the great room that evening has an imposing 
aspect. Thetwo Queens, so unlike in spirit, in beauty, and 
in dress, and almost at daggers drawn, were both much 
too absent-minded to give the impetus for which the cour- 
tiers waited to raise their spirits. 

The dead secret of the drama which, for the past six 
months, the son and mother had been cautiously playing, © 
was guessed by some of their followers; the Italians, 
more especially, had kept an attentive lookout, for if 
Catherine should lose the game, they would all be the 
victims. Under these circumstances, at a moment when 
Catherine and her son were vying with each other in snb- 
terfuges, the King was the center of observation. 

Charles IX., tired by a long day’s hunting, and by the 
serious reflections he brooded over in secret, looked forty 


. 
% 


266 Oathorine de’ Medici 


this evening. He had reached the last stage of the malady 
which killed him, and which gave rise to grave suspicions 
of poison. According to de Thou, the Tacitus of the Va- 
lois, the surgeon found unaccountable spots in the King’s 
body (ex causd incognita reperti livores). His funeral was 
even more carelessly conducted than that of Francis II. 
Charles the Ninth was escorted from Saint-Lazare to Saint- 
Denis by Brantéme and a few archers of the Guard com- 
manded by the Comte de Solern. This circumstance, 
added to the mother’s supposed hatred of her son, may 
confirm the accusation brought against her by de Thou ; at 
least it gives weight to the opinion here expressed, that 
_ she cared little for any of her children, an indifference 
which is accounted for by her faith in the pronouncement 
of astrology. Such a woman could not care for tools that 
were to break in her hands. Henri III. was the last King 
under whom she could hope to reign ; and that was all. 

In our day it seems allowable to suppose that Charles 
IX. died a natural death. His excesses, his manner of 
life, the sudden development of his powers, his last strug- 
gles to seize the reins of government, his desire to live, his 
waste of strength, his last sufferings and his last pleas- 
ures, all indicate, to impartial judges, that he died of 
disease of the lungs, a malady at that time little under- 
stood, and of which nothing was known; and its symp- 
toms might lead Charles himself to believe that he was 
poisoned. 

The real poison given him by his mother lay in the evil 
counsels of the courtiers with whom she surrounded him, 
who induced him to waste his intellectual and physical 
powers, and who thus were the cause of a disease which 
was purely incidental and not congenital. 

Charles the Ninth, at this period of his life more than 
at any other, bore the stamp of a somber dignity not un- 
becoming ina King. The majesty of his secret thoughts 
was reflected in his face, which was remarkable for the 


Catherine de’ Medici . 267 


Italian complexion he inherited. from his mother. This 
ivory pallor, so beautiful by artificial light, and so well 
suited with an expression of melancholy, gave added effect 
to his deep blue eyes showing narrowly under thick eye- 
lids, and thus acquiring that keen acumen which imagina- 
tion pictures in the glance of a King, while their color was 
an aid to dissimulation. Charles’s eyes derived an awe- 
inspiring look from his high, marked eyebrows—accen- 
tuating a lofty forehead—which he could lift or lower 
with singular facility. His nose was long and broad, and 
thick at the tip—a true lion’s nose; he had large ears ; 
light reddish hair ; lips of the color of blood, the lips of a 
consumptive man; the upper lip thin and satirical, the 
lower full enough to indicate fine qualities of feeling. 

The wrinkles stamped on his brow in early life, when 
terrible anxieties had blighted its freshness, made his face 
intensely interesting ; more than one had been caused by 
remorse for the massacre of Saint-Bartholomew, a deed 
which had been craftily foisted on him; but there were 
two other lines on his face which would have been eloquent 
to any student who at that time could have had a special 
revelation of the principles of modern physiology. ‘These 
lines made a deep furrow from the cheek-bones to each 
corner of the mouth, and betrayed the efforts made by an 
exhausted organization to respond to mental strain and to 
violent physical enjoyment. Charles IX. was worn out. 
The Queen-mother, seeing her work, must have felt some 
remorse, unless, indeed, politics stifle such a feeling in all 
who sit under the purple. If Catherine could have fore- 
seen the effects of her intrigues on her son, she might per- 
haps have shrunk from them ? 

It was a terrible spectacle. The King, by nature so 
strong, had become weak ; the spirit, so nobly tempered, 
was racked by doubts; thisman, the center of authority, 
felt himself helpless ; the naturally firm temper had lost 
confidence in its power. The warrior’s valor had degen- 


268 Catherine de’ Medici — 


erated into ferocity, reserve had become dissimulation, the. 
refined and tender passion of the Valois was an insatiable 
thirst for pleasure. This great man, misprized, perverted, 
with every side of his noble spirit chafed to a sore,a King 
without power, a loving heart without a friend, torn a 
thousand ways by conflicting schemes, was, at four-and- 
twenty, the melancholy image of a man who has found 
everything wanting, who distrusts every one, who is ready 
to stake his all, even his life. Only lately had he under- 
stood his mission, his power, his resources, and the obsta- 
cles placed by his mother in the way of the pacification of 
the kingdom, and the light glowed in a broken lamp. 

Two men, for whom the King had so great a regard 
that he had saved one from the massacre of Saint-Bartho- 
lomew, and had dined with the other at a time when his 
enemies accused him of poisoning the King—his chief 
physician Jean Chapelain, and the great surgeon Ambroise 
Paré—had been sent for from the country by Catherine, 
and, obeying the summons in hot haste, arrived at the 
King’s bedtime. They looked anxiously at their sovereign, 
and some ofthe courtiers made whispered inquiries, but 
they answered with due reserve, saying nothing of the 
sentence each had secretly pronounced. Now and again 
the King would raise his heavy eyelids and try to conceal 
from the bystanders the glance he shot at his mother. 
Suddenly he rose, and went to stand in front of the fire- 
place. 

«‘ Monsieur de Chiverni,” said he, “‘ why do you keep 
the title of Chancellor of Anjou and sespecceshs Are you 
our servant or our brother’s ?” 

<‘T am wholly yours, Sire,” replied Chiverni, with a bow. 

“ Well, then, come to-morrow; I mean to send you to 
Spain, for strange things are doing at the Oourt of Madrid, 
gentlemen.” 

The King looked at his wife and returned to his chair. 

«* Strange things are doing everywhere,” he added in a 


Catherine de’ Medici 1 OBR: 


whisper to Marshal Tavannes, one of the favorites of his 
younger days. And he rose to lead the partner of his 
youthful pleasures into the recess of an oriel window, say- 
ing to him— . 

‘TI want you; stay till the last. I must know whether 
you will be with me oragainst me. Do not look astonished. 
I am breaking the leading strings. My mother is at the 
bottom of all the mischief here. In three months I shall 
either be dead, or be really King. As you love your life, 
silence! You are in my secret with Solern and Villeroy. 
If the least hint is given, it will come from one of you 
three.—Do not keep too close tome; go and pay your 
court to my mother ; tell her that I am dying, and that 
you cannot regret it, for that I am but a poor creature.” 

Charles [X. walked round the room leaning on his old 
favorite’s shoulder, and discussing his sufferings with him, 
to mislead inquisitive persons ; then, fearing that his 
coldness might be too marked, he went to talk with the 
two Queens, calling Birague to his side. 

Just then Pinard glided in at the door and came up to 
Queen Catherine, slipped in like an eel, close to the wall. 
He murmured two words in the Queen-mother’s ear, and 
she replied with an affirmative nod. The King did not 
ask what this meant, but he went back to his chair witha 
scowl round the room of horrible rage and jealousy. This 
little incident was of immense importance in the eyes of 
all the Court. This exertion of authority without any 
appeal to the King was like the drop of water that 
makes the glass overflow. The young Queen and Countess 
Fieschi withdrew without the King’s paying her the least 
attention, but the Queen-mother attended her daughter-in- 
law to the door. Though the misunderstanding between 
the mother and son lent enormous interest to the move- 
ments, looks, and attitude of Catherine and Charles IX., 
their cold composure plainly showed the courtiers that 
they were in the way ; as soon as the Queen had gone 


270 Catherine de’ Mediei 


they took their leave. At ten o’clock no one remained 
but certain intimate persons—the two Gondis, Tavannes, 
the Comte de Solern, Birague, and the Queen-mother. 

The King sat plunged in the deepest melancholy. This 
silence was fatiguing. Catherine seemed ata loss; she 
wished to retire, and she wanted the King to attend her to 
the door, but Charles remained obstinately lost in thought ; 
she rose to bid him good-night, Charles was obliged to 
follow her example; she took his arm, and went a few 
steps with him to speak in his ear these few words— 

** Monsieur, I have matters of importance to discuss 
with you.” 

As she left, the Queen-mother met the eyes of the Gondis 
reflected in a glass, and gave them a significant glance, 
which her son could not see—all the more so because he 
himself was exchanging meaning looks with the Comte de 
Solern and Villeroy ; Tavannes was absorbed in thought. 

‘« Sire,” said the Maréchal de Retz, coming out. of his 
meditations, ‘‘ you seem right royally bored. Do you 
never amuse yourself nowadays? Heaven above us! 
where are the times when we went gadding about the 
streets of nights ?” 

«Yes, those were good times,” said the King, not with- 
out a sigh. 

““Why not be off now?” said Monsieur de Birague, 
bowing himself out, with a wink at the Gondis. 

«T always think of that time with pleasure,” cried the 
Maréchal de Retz. 

**T should like to see you on the roofs, Monsieur le 
Maréchal,” said Tavannes. ‘‘ Sacré chat d’Italie, if you 
might but break your neck,” he added in an undertone to 
the King. 

**T know not whether you or I should be nimblest at 
jumping across a yard or a street; but what I do knowis, 
that neither of us is more afraid of death than the other,” 
replied the Duc de Retz. 


Catherine de’ Medici ; rt By 


‘Well, Sir, will you come to scour the town as you did 
when you were young ?” said the Master of the Wardrobe 
to the King. 

Thus at four-and-twenty the unhappy King was no 
longer thought young, even by his flatterers. Tavannes 
and the King recalled, like two school-fellows, some of the 
good tricks they had perpetrated in Paris, and the party 
was soonmade up. The two Italians, being dared to jump 
from roof to roof across the street, pledged themselves to 
follow where the King should lead. They all went to put 
on common clothes. 

The Comte de Solern, left alone with the King, looked 
at him with amazement. The worthy German, though 
filled with compassion as he understood the position of — 
the King of France, was fidelity and honor itself, but he 
had not a lively imagination. King Charles, surrounded 
by enemies, and trusting no one, not even his wife—who, 
not knowing that his mother and all her servants were 
inimical to him, had committed some little indiscretions— 
was happy to have found in Monsieur de Solern a devotion 
which justified complete confidence. ‘Tavannes and Vil- 
leroy were only partly in the secret. The Comte de 
Solern alone knew the whole of the King’s schemes; and 
he was in every way very useful to his master, inasmuch 
as that he had a handful of confidential and attached men 
at his orders who obeyed him blindly. Monsieur de 
Solern, who held a command in the Archers of the Guard, 
had for some days been picking from among his men some 
who were faithful in their adherence to the King, to form 
a chosen company. The King could think of everything. 

“‘ Well, Solern,” said Charles IX., ‘‘ we were needing a 
pretext for spending a night out of doors. I had the ex-. 
cuse, of course, of Madame de Belleville ; but this is better, 
for my mother can find out what goes on at Marie’s 
house.” 

Monsieur de Solern, as he was to attend the King, asked 


272 Catherine de’ Medici 


if he might not go the rounds with some of his Germans, 
and to this Charles consented. By eleven o’clock the 
King, in better spirits now, set out with his three com- 
panions to explore the neighborhood of the Rue Saint- 
Honoré. 

**T will take my lady by surprise,” said Charles to 
Tavannes as they went along the Rue de |’Autruche. 

To make this nocturnal ploy more intelligible to those 
who may be ignorant of the topography of old Paris, it 
will be necessary to explain the position of the Rue de 
VAutruche. The part of the Louvre, begun by Henri II., 
was still being built amid the wreck of houses. Where 
the wing now stands looking over the Pont des Arts, there 
was at that time a garden. In the place of the Colonnade 
there were a moat and a drawbridge on which, somewhat 
later, a Florentine, the Maréchal d’Ancre, met his death. 
Beyond this garden rose the turrets of the Hétel de Bour- 
bon, the residence of the princes of that branch till the 
day when the Constable’s treason (after he was ruined by 
the confiscation of his possessions, decreed by Francis I., 
to avoid having to decide between him and his mother) 
put an end to the trial that had cost France so dear, by 
the confiscation of the Constable’s estates. 

This chateau, which looked well from the river, was not 
destroyed till the time of Louis XIV. 

The Rue del’Autruche ran from the Rue Saint-Honoré, 
ending at the Hételde Bourbon on thequay. This street, 
named de |’Autriche on some old plans, and de |’Austruc 
on others, has, like many more, disappeared from the map. 
The Rue des Poulies would seem to have been cut across 
the ground occupied by the houses nearest to the Rue 
Saint-Honoré. Authors have differed, too, as to the 
etymology of the name. Some suppose it to be derived 
from a certain Hétel d’Osteriche (Osterrichen) inhabited 
in the fourteenth century by a daughter of that house who 
married a French nobleman. Some assert that this was 


' Catherine de’ Medici (278 


the site of the Royal Aviaries, whither, once on a time, all 
Paris crowded to see a living ostrich. 

Be it as it may, this tortuous street was made notable 
by the residences of certain princes of the blood, who 
dwelt in the vicinity of the Louvre. Since the sovereign 
had deserted the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, where for 
several centuries he had lived in the Bastille, and removed 
to the Louvre, many of the nobility had settled near the 
palace. The Hétel de Bourbon had its fellow in the old 
Hétel d’Alengon in the Rue Saint-Honoré. This, the 
palace of the Counts of that name, always an appanage of 
the Crown, was at this time owned by Henri II.’s fourth 
son, who subsequently took the title of Duc d’Anjou, and 
who died in the reign of Henri III., to whom he gave no 
little trouble. The estate then reverted to the Crown, 
including the old palace, which was pulled down. In 
those days a prince’s residence was a vast assemblage of 
buildings ; to form some idea of its extent, we have only 
to go and see the space covered by the Hotel de Soubise, 
which is still standing in the Marais. Such a palace in- 
cluded all the buildings necessary to these magnificent 
lives, which may seem almost problematical to many 
persons who see how poor is the state of a prince in these 
days. There were immense stables, lodgings for physi- 
cians, librarians, chancellors, chaplains, treasurers, offi- 
cials, pages, paid servants, and lackeys, attached to the 
Prince’s person. 

Not far from the Rue Saint-Honoré, in a garden belong- 
ing to the Hotel, stood a pretty little house built in 1520 
by command of the celebrated Duchesse d’Alengon, which 
had since been surrounded with other houses erected by 
merchants. Here the King had installed Marie Touchet. 
Although the Due d’Alencon was engaged in a conspiracy 
against the King at that time, he was incapable of annoy- 
ing him in such a matter. 

As Now King was obliged to pass by his lady’s door on 

I 


274 Catherine de’ Medici 


his way down the Rue Saint-Honoré, where at that time 
highway robbers had no opportunities within the Barriére 
des Sergents, he could hardly avoid stopping there. 
While keeping a look out for some stroke of luck—a be- 
lated citizen to be robbed, or the watch to be thrashed— 
the King scanned every window, peeping in wherever 
he saw lights, to see what was going on, or to overhear 
a conversation. But he found his good city in a provok- 
ingly peaceful state. On a sudden, as he came in front 
of the house kept by a famous perfumer named René, 
who supplied the Court, the King was seized with one 
of those swift inspirations which are suggested by ante- 
cedent observation, as he saw a bright light shining from 
the topmost window of the roof. 

This perfumer was strongly suspected of doctoring rich 
uncles when they complained of illness; he was credited 
at Court with the invention of the famous Hlizir @ suc- 
cessions—the Elixir of Inheritance—and had been accused 
of poisoning Jeanne d’Albert, Henri IV.’s mother, who 
was buried without her head having been opened, in spite 
of the express orders of Charles IX., as a contemporary 
tells us. For two months past the King had been seeking 
some stratagem to enable him to spy out the secrets of 
René’s laboratory, whither Cosmo Ruggieri frequently 
resorted. Charles intended, if anything should arouse 
his suspicions, to take steps himself without the interven- 
tion of the Police or the Law, over whom his mother 
would exert the influence of fear or of bribery. 

It is beyond all doubt that during the sixteenth cen- 
tury, and the years immediately preceding and following 
it, poisoning had been brought toa pitch of perfection 
which remains unknown to modern chemistry, but which 
is indisputably proved by history. Italy, the cradle of 
modern science, was at that time the inventor and mistress 
of these secrets, many of which are lost. Romancers have 
made such extravagant use of this fact, that whenever 


Catherine de’ Medici © 275 


they introduce Italians they make them play the part of 
assassins and poisoners. 

But though Italy had then the monopoly of those subtle 
poisons of which historians tell us, we must regard her 
supremacy in toxicology merely as part of her pre-emi- 
nence in all branches of knowledge and in the arts, in 
which she led the way for all Europe. The crimes of the 
period were not hers alone ; she served the passions of the 
age, as she built magnificently, commanded armies, painted 
glorious frescoes, sang songs, loved Queens, and directed 
politics. At Florence this hideous art had reached such 


perfection, that a woman dividing a peach with a duke - 


could make use of a knife of which one side only was 
poisoned, and, eating the untainted half, dealt death with 
the other. <A pair of perfumed gloves introduced a mortal 
malady by the pores of the hand; poison could be con- 
cealed in a bunch of fresh roses of which the fragrance, 
inhaled but once, meant certain death. Don Juan of 
Austria, it is said, was poisoned by a pair of boots. 

So King Charles had a right to be inquisitive, and it is 
easy to imagine how greatly the dark suspicions which 
tormented him added to his eagerness to detect René in 
the act. 

The old fountain, since rebuilt, at the corner of the 
Rue de |’Arbre-Sec, afforded this illustrious crew the 
necessary access to the roof of a house, which the King 
pretended that he wished to invade, not far from René’s. 
Charles, followed by his companions, began walking along 
the roofs, to the great terror of the good folks awakened 
by these marauders, who would call to them, giving them 
some coarsely grotesque name, listen to family squabbles 
or love-makings, or do some vexatious damage. 

When the two Gondis saw T'avannes and the King 
clambering along the roof adjoining René’s, the Maréchal 
de Retz sat down, saying he was tired, and his brother 
remained with him. 


276 Catherine de’ Medici 


«‘So much the better,” thought the King, glad to be 
quit of his spies. 

Tavannes made fun of the two Italians, who were then 
left alone in the midst of perfect silence in a place where 
they had only the sky above them and the cats for listen- 
ers. And the brothers took advantage of this position to 
speak out thoughts which they never would have uttered 
elsewhere—thoughts suggested by the incidents of the 
evening. 

<* Albert,” said the Grand Master to the Marshal, “the 
King will get the upper hand of the Queen; we are doing 
bad business so far as our fortunes are concerned by 
attaching ourselves to Catherine’s. If we transfer our 
services to the King now, when he is seeking some sup- 
port against his mother, and needs capable men to rely 
upon, we shall not be turned out like wild beasts when 
the Queen-mother is banished, imprisoned, or killed.” 

“You will not get far, Charles, by that road,” the 
Marshal replied. ‘‘ You will follow your master into the 
_ grave, and he has not long to live; he is wrecked by dis- 
sipation ; Oosmo Ruggieri has foretold his death next 
year.” 

«« A dying boar has often gored the hunter,” said Charles 
de Gondi. ‘This plot of the Duc d’Alengon with the 
King of Navarre and the Prince de Condé, of which la 
Mole and Coconnas are taking the onus, is dangerous 
rather than useful. In the first place, the King of Na- 
yarre, whom the Queen-mother hopes to take in the fact, 
is too suspicious of her, and will have nothing to do with 
*t. He means to get the benefit of the conspiracy and 
run none of the risks. And now, the last idea is to place 
the crown on the head of the Duc d’Alengon, who is to 
turn Calvinist.” 

** Budelone! Dolt that you are, do not you see that 
this plot enables our Queen to learn what the Huguenots 
can do with the Duc d’Alengon, and what the King means 


Catherine de’ Medici OTT 


to do with the Huguenots ? For the King is temporizing 
with them. And Catherine, to set the King riding on a 
wooden horse, will betray the plot which must nullify his 
schemes.” 

«* Ay !” said Charles de Gondi, “‘ by dint of taking our 
advice she can beat us at our own game. That is very 
good.” 

**Good for the Duc d’Anjou, who would rather be 
King of France than Ting of Poland ; I am going to ex- 
plain matters to him.” 

** You are going, Albert ?” 

‘To-morrow. Is it not my duty to attend the King of 
Poland? Ishall join him at Venice, where the Signori 
have undertaken to amuse him.” 

«« You are prudence itself.” 

“* Ohe bestia! I assure you solemnly that there is not 
the slightest danger for either of us at Court. If there 
were, should I leave? I would stick to our kind Mis- 
tress.” 

“ Kind !” said the Grand Master. ‘‘She is the woman 
to drop her tools if she finds them too heavy.” 

“‘ Ocoglione! You call yourself a soldier, and are afraid 
of death ? Every trade has its duties, and our duty is'to 
Fortune. When we attach ourselves to monarchs who 
are the fount of all temporal power, and who protect and 
ennoble and enrich our families, we have to give them 
such love as inflames the soul of the martyr for heaven ; 
when they sacrifice us for the throne we may perish, for 
we die as much for ourselves as for them, but our family 
does not perish.—Zcco ; I have said !” 

‘You are quite right, Albert; you have got ss old 
duchy of Retz.” 

“Listen to me,” said the Duc de Retz. ‘‘The Queen 
has great hopes of the Ruggieri and their arts to reconcile 
her to her son. When that artful youth refused to have 
anything to do with René, our Queen easily guessed what 


oe 0s ea meade 


her son’s suspicions were. But who can tell what the 
King has in his pocket ? Perhaps he is only doubting as 
to what fate he intends for his mother ; he hates her, you 
understand ? He said something of his purpose to the 
Queen, and the Queen talked of it to Madame de Fieschi ; 
Madame de Fieschi carried it on to the Queen-mother, 
and since then the King has kept out of his wife’s way.” 
“‘It was high time——” said Charles de Gondi. 
«* What to do ?” asked the Marshal. 
“To give the King something to do,” replied the 
Grand Master, who, though he was on less intimate terms 
with Catherine than his brother, was not less clear-sighted. 
*« Charles,” said de Retz gravely, ‘‘I have started on a 
splendid road ; but if you want to be a Duke, you must, 
like me, be our Mistress’s ready tool. She will remain 
Queen ; she is the strongest. Madame de Sanves is still 
devoted to her; and the King of Navarre and the Duc 
d’Alengon are devoted to Madame de Sauves; Catherine 
will always have them in leading strings under this King, 
as she will have them under King HenrilII. Heaven send 
he may not be ungrateful !” 
«6 Why ?” 
«* His mother does too much for him.” 
_ Hark! There isa noise in the Rue Saint-Honoré,” 

cried Charles de Gondi. ‘‘ René’s door is being locked. 
Cannot you hear a number of men? ‘They must have 
taken the Ruggieri.” 

«‘The devil! What a piece of prudence! The King 
has not shown his usual impetuosity. But where will he 
imprison them ?—Let us see what is going on.” 

The brothers reached the corner of the Rue de 
PAutruche at the moment when the King was enter- 
ing his mistress’s house. By the light of the torches 
held by the gatekeeper they recognized Tavannes and the 
Ruggieri. 

** Well, Tavannes,” the Grand Master called out as he 





Catherine de’ Medici 279 


ran after the King’s companion, who was making his 
way back to the Louvre, ‘‘ what adventures have you 
had ?” 

«We dropped on a full council of wizards, and arrested 
two who are friends of yours, and who will explain for 
the benefit of French noblemen by what means you, who 
are not Frenchmen, have contrived to clutch two Crown 
offices,” said Tavannes, half in jest. 

** And the King ?” asked the Grand Master, who was 
not much disturbed by Tavannes’ hostility. 

** He is staying with his mistress.” 

** We have risen to where we stand by the most absolute 
devotion to our masters, a brilliant and noble career which 
you too have adopted, my dear Duke,” replied the 
Maréchal de Retz. 


The three courtiers walked on in silence. As they 
bid each other-good-night, rejoining their retainers, who 
escorted them home, two men lightly glided along the 
Rue de l’Autruche in the shadow of the wall. These 
were the King and the Comte de Solern, who soon 
reached the river-bank at a spot where a boat and 
rowers, engaged by the German Count, were awaiting 
them. Ina few minutes they had reached the opposite 
shore. 

*« My mother is not in bed,” cried the King, ‘she will 
see us ; we have not made a good choice of our meeting- 
place.” 

*« She will think some duel is in the wind,” said Solern. 
** And how is she to distinguish who we are at this dis- 
tance ?” 

‘Well! Even if she sees me!” cried Charles 1X. ‘TI 
have made up my mind now.” 

“‘The King and his friend jumped on shore, and hur- 
ried off towards the Pré aux Clercs. On arriving there, 
the Comte de Solern, who went first, parleyed with a man 


280 -* Qatherine de’ Medici 


‘on sentry, with whom he exchanged a few words, and who 
then withdrew to a group of others. 

Presently two men, who seemed to be princes by the 
way the outposts saluted them, left the spot where they 
were in hiding behind some broken fencing, and came to 
the King, to whom they bent the knee; but Charles 
IX. raised them before they could touch the Groene, say- 
ing— 

«No ceremony ; here we are all gentlemen together.” 

These three were now joined by a venerable old man, 
who might have been taken for the Ohancellor de 
Hopital, but that he had died the year before. Then all 
four walked on as quickly as possible to reach a spot 
where their conversation could not be overheard by their 
retainers, and Solern followed them at a little distance to 
keep guard over the King. This faithful servant felt 
some doubts which Charles did not share, for to him indeed 
life was too great a burden. The Count was the only wit- 
ness to the meeting on the King’s side. 

It soon became interesting. 

‘* Sire,” said one of the speakers, “‘ the Connétable de 
Montmorency, the best friend the King, your father, had, 
and possessed of all his secrets, agreed with the Maréchal 
de Saint-André that Madame Catherine should be sown 
up in a sack and thrown into the river. If that had been 
done, many good men would be alive now.” 

«‘T have executions enough on my conscience, Mon- 
sieur,” replied the King. 

«* Well, Sire,” said the youngest of the four gentlemen, 
“from the depths of exile Queen Catherine would still 
manage to interfere and find men to help her. Have we 
not everything to fear from the Guises, who, nine years 
since, schemed for a monstrous Catholic alliance, in which 
your Majesty is not included, and which is a danger to the 
throne? This alliance is a Spanish invention—for Spain 
still cherishes the hope of leveling the Pyrenees. Sire, 


Catherine de’ Medici 281 


Calvinism can save France by erecting a moral barrier be- 
tween this nation and one that aims at the Empire of the 
world. If the Queen-mother finds herself in banishment, 
she will throw herself on Spain and the Guises. 

‘«¢Gentlemen,” said the King, ‘‘I will have you to know 
that with your help, and with peace established on a 
basis of confidence, I will undertake to make every soul 
in the kingdom quake. By God and every sacred relic ! 
it is time that the Royal authority should assert itself. 
Understand this clearly; so far, my mother is right, 
power is slipping from your grasp, as it is from mine. 
Your estates, your privileges are bound to the throne; 
when you have allowed religion to be overthrown, the 
hands you are using as tools will turn against the Mon- 
archy and against you. 

“‘T have had enough of fighting ideas with weapons 
that cannot touch them. Let us see whether Protes- 
tantism can make its way if left to itself; above all, let 
us see what the spirit of that faction means to attack. 
The Admiral, God be merciful to him, was no enemy of 
mine. He swore to me that he would restrain the revolt 
within the limits of spiritual feeling, and in the temporal 
kingdom secure mastery to the King and submissive 
‘subjects. Now, gentlemen, if the thing is still in your 
power, set an example, and help your sovereign to con- 
trol the malcontents who are disturbing the peace of both 
parties alike. War robs us of all our revenue, and ruins 
the country ; I am weary of this troubled State—so much 
so, that, if it should be absolutely necessary, I would sac- 
rifice my mother. I would do more ; I would have about 
me a like number of Catholics and of Protestants, and I 
would hang Louis XI.’s ax over their head to keep them 
equal. If Messieurs de Guise plot a Holy Alliance which 
endangers the Crown, the executioner shall begin on them. 

“‘T understand the griefs of my people, and am quite 
ready to cut freely at the nobles who bring trouble on out 


282 Catherine de’ Medici 


country. I care little for questions of conscience ; 1 mean 
henceforth to have submissive subjects who will work, 
under my rule, at the prosperity of the State. 

‘¢ Gentlemen, I give you ten days to treat with your ad- 
herents, to break up your plots, and return to me, who 
will be a father to you. If youare refractory, you will see 
great changes. I shall make use of smaller men who, at 
my bidding, will rush upon the great lords. I will follow 
the example of a king who pacified his realm by striking 
down greater men than you are who dared todefy him. If 
Catholic troops are wanting, I can appeal to my brother of 
Spain to defend a threatened throne ; nay, and if I need a 
Minister to carry out my will, he will lend me the Duke 
of Alva.” 

<¢ In that event, Sire, we can find Germans to fight your 
Spaniards,” said one of the party. 

‘«T may remind you, cousin,” said Charles IX: coldly, 
‘¢that my wife’s name is Elizabeth of Austria; your allies 
on that side might fail you. But take my advice ; let us 
fight this alone without calling in the foreigner. You are 
the object of my mother’s hatred, and you care enough for 
me to play the part of second in my duel with her—well, 
then, listen. You standso high in my esteem, that I offer 
you the office of High Constable ; you will not betray us 
as the othor has done.” 

The Prince thus addressed took the King’s hand in a 
friendly grasp, exclaiming— 

‘*God’s ’ounds, brother, that is indeed forgiving. evil ! 
But, Sire, the head cannot move without the tail, and our 
tail is hard to drag along. Give us more than ten days. 
We still need at least a month to make the rest hear reason. 
By the end of that time we shall be the masters.” 

«« A month, so beit ; Villeroy is my only plenipotentiary. 
Take no word but fits; whatever any one may say.” 

«< One month,” said the three other gentlemen ; “‘ that 
will be enough time.” 


Catherine de’ Medici 983 


«‘ Gentlemen,” said the King, “‘ we are but five, all men 
of mettle. If there is any treachery, we shall know with © 
whom to deal.” 

The three gentlemen left the King with every mark of 
deep respect and kissed his hand. 

As the King recrossed the Seine, four o’clock was strik- 
ing by the Louvre clock. 

Queen Catherine was still up. 

«“My mother is not gone to bed,” said Charles to the 
Comte de Solern. 

‘«* She too has her forge,” said the German. 

«‘ My dear Count, what must you think of a king who is 
reduced to conspiracy ?” said Charles IX. bitterly, after 
& pause. : 

**T think, Sire, that if you would only allow me to throw 
that woman into the river, as our young friend said, France 
would soon be at peace.” 

*« Parricide !—and after Saint-Bartholomew’s!” said 

“the King. ‘‘No, no—Exile. Once fallen, my mother 
would not have an adherent or a partisan.” 

‘‘ Well, then, Sire,” the Count went on, “allow me to 
take her into custody now, at once, and escort her beyond 
the frontier, for by to-morrow she will have won you round.” 

‘‘ Well,” said the King, “‘ come to my forge; no one 
can hear us there. Besides, I am anxious that my mother 
should know nothing of the arrest of the Ruggieri. If she 
knows I am within, the good lady will suspect nothing, 
and we will concert the measures for arresting her.” 

When the King, attended by Solern, went into the low 
room which served as his workshop, he smiled as he 
pointed to his forge and various tools. 

**T do not suppose,” said he, ‘‘that of all the kings 
France may ever have, there will be another with a taste 
for such a craft. But when I am really King, I shall not 
forge swords ; they shall all be sheathed.” 

**Sire,” said the Comte de Solern, ‘the fatigues of 


284 Catherine de’ Medici 


tennis, your work at the forge, hunting, and—may I say 
it ?—love-making, are chariots lent you by the Devil to 
hasten your journey to Saint-Denis.” 

«‘ Ah, Solern !” said the King sadly, ‘‘if only you could 
feel the fire they have set burning in my heart and body. 
Nothing can slake it.—Are you sure of the men who are 
guarding the Ruggieri ?” 

** As sure as of myself.” 

‘Well, in the course of this day I shall have made 
up my mind. Think out the means of acting, and I will 
give you my final instructions at five this evening, at 
Madame de Belleville’s. 


The first gleams of daybreak were struggling with the 
lights in the King’s workshop, where the Comte de Solern 
had left him alone, when he heard the door open and saw 
his mother, looking like a ghost in the gloom. Though 
Charles IX. was highly strung and nervous, he did not 
start, although under the circumstances this apparition 
had an ominous and grotesque aspect. 

“‘ Monsieur,” said she, ‘‘ you are killing yourself-——” 

«‘T am fulfilling my horoscopes,” he retorted, with a 
bitter smile. ‘But you, Madam, are you as ill as lam ?” 

«¢ We have both watched through the night, Monsieur, 
but with very different purpose. When you were setting 
out to confer with your bitterest enemies in the open night, 
and hiding it from your mother, with the connivance of 
Tavannes and the Gondis, with whom you pretended to be 
scouring the town, I was reading despatches which prove 
thata terrible conspiracy is hatching, in which your brother 
the Duc d’Alengon is implicated with your brother-in-law, 
the King of Navarre, the Prince de Condé, and half the 
nobility of your kingdom. Their plan is no less than to 
snatch the Crown from you by taking possession of your 
person. These gentlemen have already a following of fifty 
thousand men, all good soldiers,” 


Catherine de’ Medici 285 

** Indeed !” said the King incredulously. 

**Your brother is becoming a Huguenot,” the Queen 
went on. ) ; 

*¢ My brother joining the Huguenots ?” cried Charles, 
brandishing the iron bar he held, 

“Yes. The Duc d’Alengon, a Huguenot: at heart, is 
about to declare himself. Your sister, the Queen of 
Navarre, has scarcely a tinge of affection left for you. She 
loves Monsieur le Duc d’Alengon, she loves Bussy, and she 
also loves little la Mole.” 

«¢ What a large heart!” said the King. 

‘Little la Mole, to grow great,” the Queen went on, 
*‘can think of no better means than making a King of 
France to his mind. Then, it is said, he is to be High 
Constable.” : 

‘That damned Margot!” cried the King. ‘‘ This 
is what comes of her marrying a heretic——” 

‘That would be nothing; but then there is the head 
of the younger branch, whom you have placed near the 
throne against my warnings, and who only wants to see 
you all kill each other! The House of Bourbon is the 
enemy of the House of Valois. Mark this, Monsieur, a 
younger branch must always be kept in abject poverty, for 
it is born with the spirit of conspiracy, and itis folly to 
give it weapons when it has none, or to leave them in its 
possession when it takes them. The younger branches 
must be impotent for mischief—that is the law of soy- 
ereignty. The sultans of Asia observe it. 

«The proofs are up-stairs in my closet, whither I 
begged you to follow me when we parted last night, but 
you had other projects. Within a month, if we do not 
take a high hand, your fate will be that of Charles the 
Simple.” 

** Within a month!” exclaimed Charles, amazed at 
the coincidence of this period with the term fixed by the 
princes that very night. ‘‘In a month we shall be the 





286 Catherine de’ Medici 


masters,” thought he to himself, repeating their words. 
«© You have proofs, Madame ?” he asked aloud. 

‘They are unimpeachable, Monsieur ; they are sup- 
plied by my daughter Marguerite. ‘Terrified by the 
probable outcome of such a coalition, in spite of her 
weakness for your brother d’Alengon, the throne of the 
Valois lay, for once, nearer to her heart than all her 
amours. She asks indeed, as the reward of her revela- 
tion, that la Mole shall go scot free; but that popinjay 
seems to me to be a rogue we ought to get rid of, as well as 
the Comte de Coconnas, your brother d’Alengon’s right- 
hand man. As to the Prince de Condé, that boy would 
agree to anything so long as I may be flung into the river ; 
I do not know if that is his idea of a handsome return on 
his wedding-day for the pretty wife I got him. 

*‘This is a serious matter, Monsieur. You spoke of 
predictions! I know of one which says that the Bourbons 
will possess the throne of the Valois ; and if we do not 
take care, it will be fulfilled. Do not be vexed with your 
sister, she has acted well in this matter.” 

«« My son,” she went on, after a pause, with an assump- 
tion of tenderness in her tone, ‘‘ many evil-minded per- 
sons, in the interest of the Guises, want to sow dissen- 
sion between you and me, though we are the only two 
persons in the realm whose interests are identical. Re- 
flect. You blame yourself now, I know, for Saint Bar- 
tholomew’s night; you blame me for persuading you to 
it. But Catholicism, Monsieur, ought to be the bond of 
Spain, France, and Italy, three nations which by a sécretly 
and skilfully worked scheme may, in the course of time, 
be united under the House of Valois. Do not forfeit your 
chances by letting the cord slip which includes these three 
kingdoms in the pale of the same faith. 

‘‘ Why should not the Valois and the Medici carry out, 
to their great glory, the project of Charles V., who lost 
his head ? Let those descendants of Jane the Crazy people 


5: 


Catherine de’ Medici 287 


the new world which they are grasping at. The Medici, 
masters of Florence and Rome, will subdue Italy to your 
rule ; they will secure all its advantages by a treaty of 
commerce and alliance, and recognize you as their liege 
lord for the fiefs of Piedmont, the Milanese, and Naples 
over which you have rights. These, Monsieur, are the 
reasons for the war to the death we are waging with the 
Huguenots. Why do you compel us to repeat these 
things ? é 

«* Charlemagne made a mistake when he pushed north- 
wards. France is a body of which the heart is on the 
Gulf of Lyons, and whose two arms are Spain and Italy. 
Thus we should command the Mediterranean, which is 
like a basket into which all the wealth of the Hast is 
poured to the benefit of the Venetians now, in the teeth 
of Philip II. . 

*« And if the friendship of the Medici and your inherited 
rights can thus entitle you to hope for Italy, force, or 
alliance, or perhaps inheritance, may give you Spain. 
There you must step in before the ambitious House of 
Austria, to whom the Guelphs would have sold Italy, and 
who still dream of possessing Spain. ‘Though your wife 
is a daughter of that line, humble Austria, hug her closely 
to stifle her! ‘There lie the enemies of your dominion, 
since from thence comes aid for the Reformers.—Do not 
listen to men who would profit by our disagreement, and 
who fill your head with trouble by representing me as your 
chief enemy at home. Have I hindered you from having 
an heir? Is it my fault that your mistress has a son and 
your wife only a daughter ? Why have you not by this 
time three sons, who would cut off all this sedition at the 
root >—Is it my part, Monsieur, to reply to these ques- 
tions? If you had a son, would Monsieur d’Alengon 
conspire against you ?” 

As she spoke these words, Catherine fixed her eyes on 
Charles IX. with the fascinating gaze of a bird of prey 


288 Catherine de’ Medici 


on its victim. The daughter of the Medici was beautiful 
in her way ; her real feelings illumined her face, which, 
like that of a gambler at the green-table, was radiant with 
ambitious greed. Charles IX. saw her no longer as the 
mother of one man, but, as she had been called, the 
mother of armies.and empires (mater castrorum). Cath- — 
erine had spread the pinions of her genius, and was boldly 

soaring in the realm of high politics of the Medici and 

the Valois, sketching the vast plans which had frightened 

Henri II., and which, transmitted by the Medici to 

Richelieu, were stored in the Cabinet of the House of 

Bourbon. But Charles I[X., seeing his mother take so 

many precautions, supposed them to be necessary, and 

wondered to what end she was taking them. He looked 

down ; he hesitated ; his distrust was not to be dispelled 

by words. ‘ 

Catherine was astonished to see what deeply founded 
suspicion lurked in her son’s heart. . 

*‘ Well, Monsieur,” she went on, ‘‘do you not choose 
to understand me? What are we, you and I, compared 
with the eternity of a royal Crown ? Do you suspect me 
of any purposes but those which must agitate us who dwell 
in the sphere whence empires are governed ? ” 

‘‘Madam,” said he, “‘1 will follow you to your closet— 
we must act-——” 

“‘Act?” cried Catherine. ‘‘Let them go their way 
and take them in the act; the law will rid you of them. 
For God’s sake, Monsieur, let them see us smiling.” 

The Queen withdrew. The King alone remained stand- 
ing for a minute, for he had sunk into extreme dejection. 

‘Qn which side are the snares?” he said aloud. ‘Is 
it she who is deceiving me, or they? What is the better 
policy ? Deus! discerne causam meam,” he cried, with 
tears in his eyes. ‘‘ Life is a burden to me. Whether 
natural or compulsory, I would rather meet death than® 
these coutradietery torments,” he added, and he struck 


Cathorme de’ Medici 989 


the hammer on his anvil with’ such violence that the 
vaults of the Louvre quaked. ‘Great God!” he ex- 
claimed, going out and looking up at the sky, ‘‘ Thou for 
whose holy religion J am warring, give me the clearness 
of Thine eyes to see into my mother’s heart by questioning 
the Ruggieri.” 


The little house inhabited by the Lady of Belleville, 
where Charles had left his prisoners, was the last but one 
in the Rue de |’Autruche, near the Rue Saint-Honoré. 
The street-gate, guarded by two little lodges built of 
brick, looked very plain at a time when gates and all their 
accessories were so elaborately treated. ‘The entrance 
consisted of two stone pillars, diamond-cut, and the archi- 
trave was graced with the reclining figure of a woman 
holding a cornucopia. The gate, of timber covered with 
heavy iron scroll-work, had a wicket peephole at the level 
of the eye for spying any one who desired admittance. 
In each lodge a porter lived, and Charles’s caprice in- 
sisted that a gatekeeper should be on the watch day and 
night. ! 

There was a little courtyard in front of the houge paved 
with Venetian mosaic. At that time, when carriages had 
not been invented, and ladies rode on horseback or in 
litters, the courtyards could be splendid with no fear of 
injury from horses or vehicles. We must constantly bear 
these facts in mind to understand the narrowness of the 
strects, the small extent of the forecourts, and various , 
other details of the dwellings of the fifteenth century. 

The house, of one story above the ground floor, had at 
the top a sculptured frieze, on which rested a roof sloping 
wp from all the four sides to a flat space at the top. The 

sides were pierced by dormer windows adorned with arehi- 

_traves and side-posts, which some great artist had chiseled 

into delicate arabesques. All the three windows of the first- 

floor rooms were equally conspicuous for this embroidery 
19 


290 Catherine de’ Medici 


in stone, thrown into relief by the red-brick walls, On 
the ground floor a double flight of outside steps, elegantly 
sculptured—the balcony being remarkable for a true lovers’ 
knot—led to the house door, decorated in the Venetian 
style with stone cut into pointed lozenges, a form of orna- 
ment that was repeated on the window-jambs on each 
side of the door. 

A garden laid out in the fashion of the time, and full 
of rare flowers, occupied a space behind the house of equal 
extent with the forecourt. A vine hung over the walls. 
A silver pine stood in the center ofa grass plot ; the ower 
borders were divided from the turf by winding paths lead- 
ing to a little bower of clipped yews at the further end, 
The garden walls, covered with a coarse mosaic of colored 
pebbles, pleased the eye by a richness of color that harmo- 
nized with the hues of the flowers. The garden front of 
the house, like the front to the court, had a pretty balcony 
from the middle window over the door; and on both 
facades alike the architectural treatment of this middle 
window was carried up to the frieze of the cornice, with a 
bow that gave it the appearance of a lantern. The sills 
of the other windows were inlaid with fine marbles let into 
the stone. 

Notwithstanding the perfect taste evident in this build- 
ing, it hada look of gloom. It was shut out from the 
open day by neighboring houses and the roofs of the Hotel 
d’Alengon, which cast their shadow over the courtyard 
and garden; then absolute silence prevailed. Still, this 
silence, this subdued light, this solitude, were restful to 
a soul that could give itself up to a single thought, as in a 
cloister where we may meditate, or in a snug home where 
we may love. 

Who can fail now to conceive of the interior elegance 
of this dwelling, the only spot in all his kingdom where 
the last Valois but one could pour out his heart, confess 
his sufferings, give play to his taste for the arts, and 


Catherine de’ Medici 291 


enjoy the poetry he loved—pleasures denied him by the 
cares of his most ponderous royalty. There alone were 
his lofty soul and superior qualities appreciated ; there 
alone, for a few brief months, the last of his life, could he 
know the joys of fatherhood, to which he abandoned 
himself with the frenzy which his presentiment of an 
imminent and terrible death lent to all his actions. 

In the afternoon of this day, Marie was finishing her 
toilet’ in her oratory—the ladies’ boudoir of that time. 
She was arranging the curls of her fine black hair, so as 
to leave a few locks to turn over a new velvet coif, and 
was looking attentively at herself in the mirror. 

«Tt is nearly four o’clock! That interminable Council 
must be at an end by now,” said she to herself. ‘“‘ Jacob 
is back from the Louvre, where they are greatly disturbed 
by reason of the number of councilors convened, and by 
the duration of the sitting. What can have happened, 
some disaster? Dear Heaven! does he know how the 
spirit is worn by waiting in vain? He is gone hunting, 
perhaps.. If he is amused, all iswell. IfIsee him happy, 
I shall forget my sorrows—— ” 

She pulled down her bodice round her waist, that there 
might not be a wrinkle in it, and turned to see how her 
dress fitted in profile ; but then she saw the King reclin- 
ing onacouch. The carpeted floors deadened the sound 
of footsteps so effectually, that he had come in without 
being heard. 

“You startled me,” she said, with a ery of surprise, 
which she instantly checked. 

*« You were thinking of me, then ?” said the King. 

‘* When am I not thinking of you?” she asked him, 
sitting down by his side. 

She took off his cap and cloak, and passed her hands 
through his hair as if to comb it with her fingers. 
Charles submitted without speaking. Marie knelt down 
to study her royal Master’s pale face, and discerned in it 


292 Catherine de’ Medici 


the lines of terrible fatigue and of a more devouring 
melancholy than any she had ever been able to scare away. 
She checked a tear, and kept silence, not to irritate a 
grief she as yet knew nothing of by some ill-chosen word. 
She did what tender wives doin such cases; she kissed 
the brow seamed with precocious wrinkles and the hollow 
cheeks, trying to breathe the freshness of her own spirit 
into that careworn soul through its infusion into gentle 
caresses, which, however, had no effect, She raised her 
head to the level of the King’s, embracing him fondly 
with her slender arms, and then laid her face on his labor- 
ing breast, waiting for the opportune moment to question 
the stricken man. 

“*My Charlot, will you not tell your poor, anxious 
friend what are the thoughts that darken your brow and 
take the color from your dear, red lips ?” 

“‘With the exception of Charlemagne,” said he, in a 
dull, hollow voice, “‘ every King of France of the name of 
Charles has come to a miserable end.” 

**Pooh!” said she. ‘* What of Charles VIII.?” 

“‘Inthe prime of life,” replied the King, ‘*the poor 
man knocked his head against a low doorway in the 
chateau d’Amboise, which he was decorating splendidly, 
and he died in dreadful pain. His death gave the Crown 
to our branch.” ' 

‘¢Charles VII. reconquered his kingdom.” 

“‘Child, he died ”—and the King lowered his yoice— 
‘of starvation, in the dread of being poisoned by the 
‘Dauphin, who had already caused the death of his fair 
Agnes. The father dreaded his son. Now, theson dreads 
his mother !” 

«‘ Why look back on the past ?” said she, remembering 
the terrible existence of Charles VI. 

*‘ Why not, dear heart ? Kings need not have recourse 
to diviners to read the fate that awaits them; they have 
only to study history. Iam at this time engaged in trying 


Catherine de’ Medici 298 


to escape the fate of Charles the Simple, who was bereft of 
his crown, and died in prison after seven years’ captivity.” 

“Charles V. drove out the English!” she cried 
triumphantly. 

** Not he, but du Guesclin ; for he, poisoned by ae 
of Navarre, languished in inked - 

«But Charles IV. ?” said she. 

** He married three times and had no heir, in spite of 
the masculine beauty that distinguished the sons of Philip 
the Handsome. The first Valois dynasty ended in him, 
The Second Valois will end in the same way. The Queen 
has only brought me a daughter, and I shall die without 
leaving any child to come, for a minority would be the 
greatest misfortune that could befall the kingdom. 
Besides, if I had a son, would he live ?—Charles is a 
name of ill-omen, Charlemagne exhausted all the luck 
attending it. If I could be King of France again, I 
would not be called Charles X.” 

“‘ Who then aims at your crown ?” 

«« My brother d’Alengon is plotting against me. I see 
enemies on every side——” 

‘* Monsieur,” said Marie, with an irresistible pout. 
«* Tell me some merrier tales.” 

«‘My dearest treasure,” said the King vehemently, 
“¢never call me Monsiewr, even in jest. You remind me 
of my mother, who incessantly offends me with that word. 
I feel as if she deprived me of my crown. She says ‘ My 
son’ to the Duc d’Anjou, that is to say, the King of 
Poland.” 

“* Sire,” said Marie, folding her hands as if in prayer, 
‘“‘there is a realm where you are adored, which your 
Majesty fills entirely with glory and strength ; an there 
the word Monsieur means my gentle lord.” 

She unclasped her hands, and with a pretty action 
pointed to her heart. The words were so sweetly musical— 
Musiquées, to use an expression of the period, applied te 


294 Catherine det Modis 


love-songs—that Charles took Marie by the waist, raised 
her with the strength for which he was noted, seated her 
on his knee, and gently rubbed his forehead against the 
curls his mistress had arranged with such care. 

Marie thought this a favorable moment ; she ventured 
on a kiss or two, which Charles allowed rather than 
accepted ; then, between two kisses, she said— 

«If my people told the truth, you were scouring Paris 
all night, as in the days when you played the scapegrace 
younger son ?” 

“‘ Yes,” said the King, who sat lost ix thought. 

** Did not you thrash the watch and rob certain good 
citizens ?—And who are the men plaved under my guard, 
and who are such criminals that you have forbidden all 
communication with them ? No girl was ever barred in 
with greater severity than these men, who have had neither 
food nor drink. Solern’s Germaus have not allowed any 
one to go near the room where you left them. Is it a 
joke ? Or is it a serious matter ?” 

“Yes,” said the King, rousing himself from his reverie, 
“last night I went scampering over the roofs with Ta- 
vannes and the Gondis. I wanted to have the company of — 
my old comrades in folly. But our legs are not what they 
were ; we did not dare jump across the streets. However, 
we crossed two courtyards by leaping from roof to roof. 
The last time, however, when we alighted on a gable close 
by this, as we clung to the bar of a chimney, we decided, 
Tavannes and I, that we could not doit again. If either 
of us had been alone, he would not have tried it.” 

“You were the first to jump, I will wager.” 
The King smiled. 

**T know why you risk your life so.” 

«* Hah, fair sorceress ! ” 

«© You are weary of life.” 

“* Begone with witchcraft! Iam haunted by it!” said 
the King, grave once more. 


Catherine de’ Medici 295 


“¢ My witchcraft is love,” said she, with asmile. ‘‘ Since 
the happy day when you first loved me, have I not always 
guessed your thoughts ? And if you will suffer me to say 
so, the thoughts that torment you to-day are not worthy 
of a King.” 

‘Am la king ?” said he bitterly. 

**Can you not be King ? What did Charles VII. do, 
whose name you bear? He listened to his mistress, my 
lord, and he won back his kingdom, which was invaded 
by the English then as it is now by the adherents of the 
New Religion. Your last act of State opened the road 
you must follow: Exterminate heresy.” 

** You used to blame the stratagem,” said Charles, ‘‘ and 
20w——” 

“‘It is accomplished,” she put in. ‘‘ Besides, I am of 
Madame Catherine’s opinion. It was better to do it your- 
self than to leave it to the Guises.” 

*‘Charles VII. had only men to fight against, and I 
have to battle with ideas,” the King went on. ‘‘ You 
may kill men; you cannot kill words! The Emperor 
Charles V. gave up the task; his son, Don Philip, is 
spending himself in the attempt. We shall die of it, we 
kings. On whom canI depend? On my right, with the 
Catholics I find the Guises threatening me; on my left, 
the Calvinists will never forgive the death of my poor 
Father Coligny, nor the blood-letting of August ; besides, 
they want to be rid of us altogether. Andin front of me, 
my mother——” 

“«* Arrest her; reign alone,’ 
his ear. 

‘‘T wanted to do so yesterday—but I do not to-day. 
You speak of it lightly enough.” 

‘« There is no such great distance between the daughter 
of an apothecary and the daughter of a leech,” said Marie 
Touchet, who would often Jaugh at the parentage falsely 
given her, 


Bb] 


said Marie, whispering in 


296 Catherine de’ Medici 


The King knit his brows. 

‘* Marie, take no liberties. Catherine de’ Medici is my 
mother, and you ought to tremble at——” 

** But what are you afraid of ?” 

‘* Poison !” cried the King, beside himself. 

“‘ Poor boy !” said Marie, swallowing her tears, for so 
much strength united to so much weakness moved her 
deeply. ‘‘Oh!” she went on, ‘‘ how you make me hate 
Madame Catherine, who used to seem so kind; but her 
kindness seems to be nothing but perfidy. Why does she 
do me so much good and you so much evil? While I was 
away in Dauphiné I heard a great many things about the 
beginning of your reign which you had concealed from 
me; and the Queen your mother seems to have been the 
cause of all your misfortunes.” 

“‘ How ?” said the King, with eager interest. 

<< Women whose souls and intentions are pure rule the 
men they love through their virtues ; but women who do 
not truly wish them well find a motive power in their 
evil inclinations. Now the Queen has turned many fine 
qualities in you into vices, and made you believe that 
- your bad ones were virtues. Was that acting a mother’s 
part ?—Be a tyrant like Louis XI., make everybody 
dreadfully afraid of you, imitate Don Philip, banish the 
Italians, hunt out the Guises, and confiscate the estates 
of the Calvinists ; you will rise to stand in solitude, and 
you will save the Crown. The moment is favorable ; your 
brother is in Poland.” 

“«‘ We are two infants in politics,” said Charles bitterly. 
‘<We only know how to love. Alas! dear heart, yester- 
day I could think of all this; I longed to achieve great 
things. Puff! my mother has blown down my house of 
cards. From afar difficulties stand out as clearly as 
mountain peaks. I say to myself, ‘I will put an end 
to Calvinism ; I will bring Messieurs de Guise to their 
senses ; I will cut adrift from the Court of Rome; I will 


Catherine de’ Medici © 297 


rely wholly on the people of the middle class ;’ in short, 
at a distance everything looks easy, but when we try to 
climb the mountains, the nearer we get, the more ahataten 
we discern. 

‘¢ Qalvinism in itself is the last thing the Yartydasdbes 
care about; and the Guises, those frenzied Catholics, 
would be in despair if the Calvinists were really exter- 
minated. Every man thinks of his own interests before 
all else, and religious opinions are but a screen for insa- 
tiable ambition. Charles IX.’s party is the weakest of all ; 
those of the King of Navarre, of the King of Poland, of 
the Duc d’Alencon, of the Condés, of the Guises, of my 
mother, form coalitions against each other, leaving me 
alone even in the Council Chamber. In the midst of so 
many elements of disturbance my mother is the stronger, 
and she has just shown me that my plans are inane. 
We are surrounded by men who defy the law. The ax 
of Louis XI. of which you speak is not inour grasp. The 
Parlement would never sentence the Guises, nor the King 
of Navarre, nor the Condés, nor my brothers. It would 
think it was setting the kingdom in a blaze. What is 
wanted is the courage to command murder ; the throne 
must come to that, with these insolent wretches who have 
nullified justice; but where can I find faithful hands ? 
The Council I held this morning disgusted me with every- 
thing—treachery on all sides, antagonistic interests every- 
where ! | 

‘*] am tired of wearing the crown; all I ask is to die in 
peace.” 

And he.sank into gloomy somnolence. 

*‘Disgusted with everything !” echoed Marie Touchet 
sadly, but respecting her lover’s heavy torpor. 

Charles was, in fact, a prey to utter prostration of mind 
and body, resulting from over-fatigue of every faculty, and 
enhanced by the dejection caused by the vast scale of his 
misfortunes and the evident impossibility of overcoming 


298 Catherine de’ Mediei 


them in the face of such a multiplicity of difficulties as 
genius itself takes alarm at. The King’s depression was 
proportionate to the height to which his courage and his 
ideas had soared during the last few months; and now a 
fit of nervous melancholy, part, in fact, of his malady, had 
come over him as he left the long sitting of the Council 
he had held in his closet. Marie saw that he was suffer- 
ing from a crisis when everything is irritating and impor- 
tunate—eyen love ; soshe remained on her knees, her head 
in the King’s lap as he sat with his fingers buried in her 
hair without moving, without speaking, without sighing, 
and she was equally still. Charles IX. was sunk in the 
lethargy of helplessness ; and Marie, in the dark despair of 
a loving woman, who can see the border-line ahead where 
love must end. 

Thus the lover sat for some little time in perfect silence, 
in the mood when every thought is a wound, when the 
clouds of a mental storm hide even the remembrance of 
past happiness. 

Marie believed herself to be in some sort to blame for 
this terrible dejection. She wondered, not without alarm, 
whether the King’s extravagant joy at welcoming her back, 
and the vehement passion she could not contend with, 
were not helping to wreck his mind and frame. As she 
looked up at her lover, her eyes streaming with tears that 
bathed her face, she saw tears in his eyes too and on his 
colorless cheeks. This sympathy, uniting them even in 
sorrow, touched Charles IX. so deeply, that he started up 
like a horse that feels the spur. He put his arm round 
Marie’s waist, and before she knew what he was doing had 
drawn her down on the couch. 

“‘T will be King no more!” he said. <* I will be noth- 
ing but your lover, and forget everything in that joy. I 
will die happy, and not eaten up with the cares of a 
throne.” 

The tone in which he spoke, the fire that blazed in eyes, 


Catherine de’ Medici 299 


just now so dull, instead of pleasing Marie, gave her a ter- 
rible pang ; at that moment she blamed her love for con- 
tributing to the illness of which the King was dying. 

“You forget your prisoners,” said she, starting up sud- 
denly. 

** What do I care about the men? They have my per- 
mission to kill me.” 

** What ? Assassins !” said she. 

“Do not be uneasy, we have them safe, dear child.— 
Now, think not of them, but of me. Say, do you not 
love me ?” 

«« Sire!” she cried. 

‘‘Sire!” he repeated, flashing sparks from his eyes, so 
violent was his first surge of fury at his mistress’s ill-timed 
deference. ‘‘ You are in collusion with my mother.” 

<‘ Great God !” cried Marie, turning to the picture over 
her praying-chair, and trying to get to it to put up a prayer. 
“©Oh! make him understand me !” 

“What!” said the King sternly. ‘‘ Have you any sin on 
your soul ?” 

And still holding her in his arms, he looked deep into 
her eyes. “I have heard of the mad passion of one 
d’Entragues for you,” he went on, looking wildly at her, 
‘‘and since their grandfather Capitaine Balzac married a 
Visconti of Milan, those rascals hesitate at nothing.” 

Marie gave the King such a look of pride that he was 
ashamed. Just then the cry was heard of the infant 
Charles de Valois from the adjoining room ; he was just 
awake, and his nurse was no doubt bringing him to his 
mother. 

<‘Come in, la Bourguignonne,” said Marie, taking the 
child from his nurse and bringing him to the King. 
“You are more of a child than he,” said she, half angry, 
but half appeased. 

‘* He is a fine boy,” said Charles [X., taking his son in 
his arms. 


300 Catherine de’ Medici 


«No one but me can know how like you he is,” said 
Marie. ‘‘ He has your smile and ways already.” 

‘« What, so young ?” said the King, smiling. 

«* Men will never believe such things,” said she ; ‘* but 
look, my Charlot, play with him, look at him—now, am I 
not right?” — 

“Tt is true,” said the King, startled by a movement on 
the infant’s part, which struck him as the miniature 
reproduction of a trick of his own. 

‘« Pretty flower!” said his mother. ‘‘ He will never go 
away from me; he will never make me unhappy.” 

The King played with the child, tossing it, kissing it 
with entire devotion, speaking to it in those vague and 
foolish words, the onomatopoeia of mothers and nurses ; his 
voice was childlike, his brow cleared, joy came back to his 
saddened countenance ; and when Marie saw that her lover 
had forgotten everything, she laid her head on his shoulder 
and whispered in his ear— 

«* Will not you tell me, my Charlot, why you put assas- 
‘sins in my keeping, and who these men are, and what you 
intend to do with them? And whither were you going 
across the roofs? .I hope there was no woman in the 
case.” 

‘Then you still love me so well?” said the King, 
caught by the bright flash of one of those questioning looks 
which women can give at a critical moment. 

“You could doubt me,” replied she, as the tears 
gathered under her beautiful girlish eyelids. 

“There are women in my adventure, but they are 
witches. Where was I?” 

«* We were quite near here, on the gable ofa house, said 
Marie. ‘In what street ?” 

**In the Rue Saint-Honoré, my jewel,” said the King, 
who seemed to have recovered himself, and who, as he re- 
ealled his ideas, wanted to give his mistress some notion 

of the scene that was about to take place here. ‘* AsI 


Catherine de’ Medici | 301 


crossed it in pursuit of some sport, my eyes were attracted 
by a bright light in a top window of the house inhabited 
by René, my mother’s perfumer and glover—yours too, the 
whole Court’s. I have strong suspicions as to what goes 
on in that man’s house, and if I am poisoned that is where 
the poison is prepared.” 

“IT give him up to-morrow,” said Marie. 


‘¢ What, you have still dealt with him since I left him ?” 


said the King. ‘* My life was here,” he added gloomily, 
‘and here no doubt they have arranged for my death.” 

‘«But, my dear boy, I have but just come home from 
Dauphiné with our Dauphin,” said she, with a smile, ‘‘ and 
I have bought nothing of René since the Queen of Navarre 
died.—Well, go on ; you climbed up to René’s roof——? ” 

«© Yes,” the King went on. ‘In a moment I, followed 
by Tavannes, had reached a spot whence, without being 
seen, I could see into the devil’s kitchen, and note certain 
things which led me to take strong measures. Do you 
ever happen to have noticed the attics that crown that 
damned Florentine’s house ? All the windows to the street 
are constantly kept shut excepting the last, from which 
the Hétel de Soissons can be seen, and the column my 
mother had erected for her astrologer Cosmo Ruggieri. 
There is a room in this top story with a corridor lighted 
from theinner yard, so that in order to see what is being 
done within, a man must get to a perch which no one 
would ever think of climbing, the coping of a high wall 
which ends against the roof of René’s house. The creatures 
who placed the alembics there to distil death, trusted to 
the faint hearts of the Parisians to escape inspection 3 but 
they counted without their Charles de Valois. I crept 
along the gutter, and supported myself against the window- 
jamb with my arm round the neck of a monkey that is 
sculptured on it.” 

«‘ And what did you see, dear heart?” said Marie, in 
alarm. 


302 Catherine de’ Medici 


‘*A low room where deeds of darkness are plotted,” 
replied the King. ‘‘ The first thing on which my eyes 
' fell was a tall, old man seated in a chair, with a magnifi- 
cent beard like old l’Hépital’s, and dressed, like him, in 
black velvet. The concentrated rays of a brightly burn- 
ing lamp fell on his high forehead, deeply furrowed by 
hollow lines, on a crown of white hair and a calm, thought- 
ful face, pale with vigils and study. His attention was 
divided between a manuscript on parchment several cen- 
turies old, and two lighted stoves on which some heretical 
mixtures were cooking. Neither the floor nor the ceiling 
was visible ; they were so covered with animals hung up 
there, skeletons, dried herbs, minerals, and drugs, with 
which the place was stuffed ; here some books and retorts, 
with chests full of instruments for magic and astrology ; 
there diagrams for horoscopes, phials, wax figures, and 
perhaps the poisons he concocts for René in payment for 
the shelter and hospitality bestowed on him by my mother’s 
glover. 

*‘Tavannes and I were startled, I can tell you, at the 
sight of this diabolical arsenal ; for merely at the sight of 
it one feels spellbound, and bat that my business is to be 
King of France, I should have been frightened. ‘Trem- 
ble for us both,’ said I to Tavannes. 

«But Tavannes’ eyes were riveted on the most mys- 
terious object. On a couch by the old man’s side lay a 
girl at full length, of the strangest beauty, as long and 
slender as a snake, as white as an ermine, as pale as death, 
as motionless as a statue. Perhaps it was a woman just 
dug out of her grave, for she seemed to be still wrapped 
in her shroud ; her eyes were fixed, and I could not see 
her breathe. The old wretch paid no sort of heed to her. 
I watched him so curiously that his spirit I believe passed 
into me. By dint of studying him, at last I admired that 
searching eye, keen and bold, in spite of the chills of age; 
that mouth, mobile with thoughts that came from what 


Catherine de’ Medici - 308 


seemed a single fixed desire, graven in a myriad wrinkles. 
Everything in the man spoke of a hope which nothing can 
discourage and nothing dismay. His attitude, motionless 
but full of thrilling life, his features so chiseled, so deeply 
cut by a passion that has done the work of the sculptor’s 
tool, that mind dead-set on some criminal or scientific pur- 
pose, that searching intelligence on the track of Nature 
though conquered by her, and bent, without having broken, 
under the burden of an enterprise it will never give up, 
threatening creation with fire borrowed from itself——I 
was fascinated for a moment. 

«* That old man was more a king than I, for his eye saw 
the whole world and was its master. I am determined to 
temper no more swords; I want to float over abysses, as 
that old man does ; his science seems to me a sovereignty. 
In short, I believe in these occult sciences.” 

‘© You, the eldest son, and the defender of the Holy 
Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman Church!” cried Marie. 

‘ec i Rad 

‘“‘Why, what has come over you? Go on; I will be 
frightened for you, and you shall be brave for me.” 

‘*The old man looked at the clock and rose,” the King 
wenton. ‘He left the room, how I could not see, but 
I heard him open the window towards the Rue Saint- 
Ifonoré. Presently a light shone out, and then I saw 
another light, answering to the old man’s by which we 
could perceive Cosmo Ruggieri on the top of the column. 

“©*Oh, ho! They understand each other,’ said I to 
Tavannes, who at once thought the whole affair highly 
suspicious, and was quite of my opinion that we should 
seize these two men, and at once make a search in their 
abominable workshop. But before proceeding to a raid, 
we wanted to see what would happen. By the end of a 
quarter of an hour the door of the laboratory opened, and 
Cosmo Ruggieri, my mother’s adviser—the bottomless pit 
in which all the Court secrets are buried, of whom wives 


304 Catherine de’ Medici 


crave help against their husbands and their lovers, and 
husbands and lovers take counsel against faithless women, 
who gains money out of the past and the future, taking 
it from every one, who sells horoscopes, and is supposed 
to know everything,—that half-demon came in, saying to 
the old man, ‘ Good-evening, brother.’ | 

‘*He had with him a horrible little old woman, tooth- 
less, hunchbacked, crooked, and bent like a lady’s mar- 
moset, but far more hideous; she was wrinkled like a 
withered apple, her skin was of the color of saffron, her 
chin met her nose, her mouth was a hardly visible slit, her 
eyes were like the black spots of the deuce on dice, her 
brow expressed a bitter temper, her hair fell in gray locks 
from under a dirty coif; she walked with a crutch ; she 
stank of devilry and the stake ; and she frightened us, for 
neither Tavannes nor I believed that she was areal woman ; 
God never made one so horrible as she. 

«‘ She sat down on a stool by the side of the fair white 
serpent with whom Tavannes was falling in love. 

«© The two brothers paid no heed to either the old woman 
or the young one, who, side by side, formed a horrible 
contrast. On one hand life in death, on the other death 
in life.” 

‘© My sweet poet!” cried Marie, kissing the King. 

**« Good evening, Cosmo,’ the old alchemist replied. 
And then both looked at the stove.-—‘ What is the power 
of the moon to-night ?’ the old man asked Cosmo.— 
‘Why, caro Lorenzo,’ my mother’s astrologer replied, 
‘the high tides of September are not yet over ; it is im- 
possible to read anything in the midst of such confusion,” 
— ‘And what did the Orient say this evening ?’—*‘ He 
has just discovered,’ said Cosmo, ‘that there is a creative 
force in the air which gives back to the earth all it takes 
from it; he concludes, with us, that everything in this 
world is the outcome of a slow transformation, but all the 
various forms are of one and the same matter.’—‘ That 


Catherine de’ Medici 806 


is what my predecessor thought,’ replied Lorenzo. ‘This 
morning Bernard Palissy was telling me that the metals 
are a result of compression, and that fire, which parts all 
things, joins all things also; fire has the power of com- 
pressing as well as that of diffusing. That worthy has a 
spark of genius in him.’ 

‘*' Though I was placed where I could not be seen, Cosmo 
went up to the dead girl, and taking her hand, he said, 
‘There is some one near! Who is it?’—-‘ The King,’ 
said she. 

‘<I at once showed myself, knocking on the window- 
pane; Ruggieri opened the window, and I jumped into 
this wizard’s kitchen, followed by Tavannes. 

««< Yes, the King,’ said I to the two Florentines, who 
seemed terror-stricken. ‘In spite of your furnaces and 
books, your witches and your learning, you could not 
divine my visit.—I am delighted to see the famous Lorenzo 
Ruggieri, of whom the Queen my mother speaks with 
such mystery,” said I to the old man, who rose and bowed.— 
‘You are in this kingdom without my consent, my 
good man. Whom are you working for here, you, who 
from father to son have dwelt in the heart of the House 
of the Medici? Listen tome. You have your hand in so 
many purses, that the most covetous would by this have 
had their fill of gold ; you are far too cunning to plunge 
unadvisedly into criminal courses, but you ought not 
either to rush like feather-brains into this kitchen; you 
must have some secret schemes, you who are not content 
with gold or with power? Whom do you serve, God or 
the Devil? What are you concocting here? I insist on 
the whole truth. Iam honest man enough to hear and 
keep the secret of your undertakings, however blamable 
they may be. So tell me everything without concealment. 
If you deceive me, you will be sternly dealt with. But 


Pagan or Christian, Calvinist or Mohammedan, you have , 


my Royal word for it that you may leave the country un- 
20 


806 Catherine de’ Medici 


punished, even if you have some peccadilloes to confess. 
At any rate, I give you the remainder of this night and 
to-morrow morning to examine your consciences, for you 
are my prisoners, and you must now follow me to a place 
where you will be guarded like a treasure.’ 

«Before yielding to my authority, the two Florentines 
glanced at each other with a wily eye, and Lorenzo Rug- 
gieri replied that I might be certain that no torture would 
wring their secrets from them ; that in spite of their frail 
appearance, neither pain nor human feeling had any hold 
on them. Confidence alone could win from their lips 
what their mind had in its keeping. I was not to be sur- 
prised if at that moment they treated on an equal footing 
with a King who acknowledged no one above him but God, 
for that their ideas also came from God alone. Hence 
they demanded of mesuch confidence as they would grant. 
So, before pledging themselves to answer my questions 
without reserve, they desired me to place my left hand in 
the young girl’s and my right hand in the old woman’s. 
Not choosing to let them suppose that I feared any devilry 
I put out my hands. Lorenzo took the right and Cosmo 
the left, and each placed one in the hand of a woman, so 
there I was like Jesus Christ between the two thieves. All 
the time the two witches were studying my hands, Cosmo 
held a mirror before me, desiring me to look at myself, 
while his brother talked to the two women in an unknown 
tongue. Neither Tavannes nor I could catch the mean- 
ing of a single sentence. 

‘We set seals on every entrance to this laboratory before 
bringing away the men, and Tavannes undertook to keep 
guard till Bernard Palissy and Chapelain, my physician- 
in-chief, shall go there to make a close examination of all 
the drugs stored or made there. It was to hinder their 
knowing anything of the search going on in their kitchen, 
and to prevent their communicating with any one what- 
ever outside—for they might have sent some message to 


Catherine de’ Medici 807 


my mother—that I brought these two demons to be shut 
up here with Solern’s Germans to watch them, who are as 
good as the stoutest prison-walls. René himself is con-. 
fined to his room under the eye of Solern’s groom, and 
the two witches also. And now; sweetheart, as I hold the 
key of the Cabala, the kings of Thunes, the chiefs of 
witchcraft, the princes of Bohemia, the masters of the 
future, the inheritors of all the famous soothsayers, I will 
read and know your heart, and at last we will know what 
is to become of us.” 

‘‘T shall be very glad if they can lay my heart bare,” 
said Marie, without showing the least alarm. 

‘©T know why necromancers do not frighten you ; you 
cast spells yourself. 

«* Will you not have some of these peaches ?” said she, 
offering him some fine fruit on a silver-gilt plate. ‘* Look 
at these grapes and pears ; I went myself to gather them 
all at Vincennes.” 

«* Then I will eat some, for there can be no poison in 
them but the philters distilled from your fingers.” 

“You ought to eat much fruit, Charles ; it would 
cool your blood, which you scorch by such violent living.” 

‘«* And ought I not to love you less too ?” / 

‘¢ Perhaps——” said she. ‘‘If what you love is bad for 
you,—and I have thought so—I should find power in my 
love to refuse to let you have it. I adore Charles far more 
than I love the King, and I want the man to live without 
the troubles that make him sad and anxious.” 

“* Royalty is destroying me.” 

“It is so,” replied she. ‘If you were only a poor 
prince like your brother-in-law the King of Navarre, that 
wretched debauchee who has not a sou or a stitch of his 
own, who has merely a poor little kingdom in Spain where 
he will never set foot, and Béarn in France, which yields 
him scarcely enough to live on, I should be happy, much 
happier than if I were really Queen of France,” 


308 Catherine de’ Medici 


*« But are you not much more than the Queen? King 
Charles is hers only for the benefit of the kingdom, for the 
Queen, after all, is part of our politics.” 

Marie smiled with a pretty little pout, saying— 

.  ** We all know that, my liege.—And my sonnet—is it 
finished ?” 

** Dear child, it is as hard to write verses as to draw up 
an edict of pacification. I will finish them for you soon. 
Ah God ! life sits lightly on me here, wouldI could never 
leave you !—But I must, nevertheless, examine the two 
Florentines. By all the sacred relics, I thought one Rug- 
gieri quite enough in France, and behold there are two! 
Listen, my dearest heart, you have a good mother-wit, 
you would make a capital lieutenant of police, for you 
detect everything : ; 

*« Well, Sire, we women take all we dread for granted, 
and to us what is probable is certain ; there is all our sub- 
tlety in two words.” 

<‘ Well, then, help me to fathom these two men. At this 
moment every determination I may come to depends on 
this examination. Are they innocent ? Are they guilty ? 
—Behind them stands my mother.” 

‘*T hear Jacob on the winding stair,” said Marie. 

Jacob was the King’s favorite body servant, who ac- 
companied him in all his amusements; he now came to 
ask whether his Master would wish to speak with the two 
prisoners. 

At a nod of consent, the mistress of the house gave some 
orders. 

** Jacob,” said she, ‘‘ make every one in the place leave 
the house, excepting the nurse and Monsieur le Dauphin 
d’Auvergne—they may stay. Doyou remain in the room 
down-stairs ; but first of all shut the windows, draw the 
curtains, and light the candles.” 

The King’s impatience was so great that, while these 
preparations were being made, he came to take his place 





Catherine de’ Medici 309 


in a large settle, and his pretty mistress seated herself by 
-hissidein the nook ofa widewhite marble chimney-place, 
where a bright fire blazed on the hearth. In the place of 
amirror hung a portrait of the King, ina red velvet 
frame. Charles rested his elbow on the arm of the seat, 
to contemplate the two lialians at his ease. 
The shutters shut, and the curtains drawn, Jacob 
lighted the candles in a sort of candelabrum of chased sil- 
ver, placing it on a table at which the two Florentines 
took their stand—seeming to recognize the candlestick as 
the work of their fellow-townsman, Benvenuto Cellini. 
Then the effect of this rich room, decorated in the King’s 
taste, was really brilliant. The russet tone of the tapes- 
tries looked better than by daylight. The furniture, ele- 
gantly carved, reflected the light of the candles and of the 
fire in its shining bosses. The gilding, judiciously intro- 
duced, sparkled here and there like eyes, and gave relief to 
the brown coloring that predominated in this nest for lovers. 
Jacob knocked twice, and at a word brought in the two 
Florentines. Marie Touchet was immediately struck by 
the grand presence which distinguished Lorenzo in the 
sight of gréat and small alike. This austere and vener- 
able man, whose silver beard was relieved against an over- 
coat of black velvet, had a forehead like a marble dome. 
His severe countenance, with two black eyes that darted 
points of fire, inspired a thrill as ofa genius emerged from 
the deepest solitude, and all the more impressive because 
its power was not dulled by contact with other men. It 
was as the steel of a blade that has not yet been used. 
Cosmo Ruggieri wore the Court dress of the period. 
Marie nodded to the King, to show him that he had not 
exaggerated the picture, and to thank him for introdue 
ing her to this extraordinary man. 
‘¢T should have liked to see the witches too,” she 
whispered. 
Charles IX., sunk again in brooding, made no reply ; 


310 Catherine de’ Medici 


he was anxiously flipping off some crumbs of bread that 
happened to lie on his doublet and hose. 

** Your science cannot work on the sky, nor compel the 
sun to shine, Messieurs de Florence,” said the King, 
pointing to the curtains which had been drawn to shut out 
the gray mist of Paris. ‘‘ There is no daylight.” 

** Our science, Sire, enables us to make a sky as we 
will,” said Lorenzo Ruggieri. <‘‘ The weather is always 
fair for those who work in a laboratory by the light of 
a furnace.” 

«« That is true,” said the King.—‘** Well, Father,” said 
he, using a word he was accustomed to employ to old 
men, “ explain to us very clearly the object of your 
studies.” 

«* Who will guarantee us impunity ?” 

“The word of a King!” replied Charles, whose cu- 
riosity was greatly excited by this question. 

Lorenzo Ruggieri seemed to hesitate, and Charles ex- 
claimed— 

«© What checks you ? we are alone.” 

<‘ Ts the King of France here ?” asked the old man. 

Charles IX. reflected for a moment, then he replied, 
ah 8 

<¢ But will he not come ?” Lorenzo urged. 

«© No,” replied Charles, restraining an impulse of rage. 

The imposing old man took a chair and sat down. 
Cosmo, amazed at his boldness, dared not imitate his 
brother. 

Charles IX. said, with severe irony— 

«‘The King is not here, Monsieur, but you are in the 
presence of a lady whose permission you ought to wait 
for.” 

«¢ The man you see before you, Madame,” said the grand 
old man,‘‘ is as far above kings as kings are above their 
subjects, and you shall find me courteous, even when you 
know my power.” 


Catherine de’ Medici 311 


Hearing these bold words, spoken with Italian em- 
phasis, Charles and Marie looked at each other and then at 
Cosmo, who, with his eyes fixed on his brother, seemed 
to be asking himself,‘*‘ How will he get himself.out of the 
awkward position we are in ?” 

In fact, one person only could appreciate the dignity 
and skill of Lorenzo Ruggieri’s first move ; not the King, 
nor his young mistress, over whom the elder man had 
cast the spell of his audacity, but his not less wily brother 
Cosmo. ‘Though he was superior to the cleverest men at 
Court, and perhaps to his patroness Catherine de’ Medici, 
the astrologer knew Lorenzo to be his master. 

The learned old man, buried in solitude, had gauged 
the sovereigns of the earth, almost all of them wearied 
out by the perpetual shifting of politics ; for at that time 
great crises were so sudden, so far reaching, so fierce, and 
so unexpected! He knew their satiety, their lassitude ; 
he knew with what eagerness they pursued all that was 
new, strange, or uncommon ; and, above all, how glad they 
were to rise now and then to intellectual regions so as to 
escape from the perpetual struggle with men and things. 
To those who have exhausted politics, nothing remains 
but abstract thought; this Charles V. had proved by his 
abdication. 

Charles IX, who made sonnets and swords to recreate 


himself after the absorbing business of an age when the - 


Throne was in not less ill-odor than the. King, and when 
Royalty had only its cares and none of its pleasures, could 
not but be strangely startled by Lorenzo’s audacious 
negation of his power. Religious impiety had ceased to 
be surprising at a time when Catholicism was closely in- 
quired into ; but the subversion of all religion, assumed 
as a groundwork for the wild speculations of mystical arts, 
naturally amazed the King, and roused him from his 
gloomy absence of mind. Besides, a victory to be won 
over mankind was an undertaking whieh would make 


_ 


gue RS ta tid! det Medio: 


every other interest seem trivial in the eyes of the Rug- 
gieri. An important debt to be paid depended on this 
idea to be suggested to the King; the brothers could not 
ask for this, and yet they must obtain it. The first thing 
was to make Charles IX. forget his suspicions by making 
him jump at some new idea. 

The two Italians knew full well that in this strange 
game their lives were at stake; and the glances—deferent 
but proud—that they exchanged with Marie and the 
King, whose looks were keen and suspicious, were a drama 
in themselves. 

“* Sire,” said Lorenzo Ruggieri, ‘‘ you have asked for 
the truth. But to show her to you naked, I must bid you 
sound the well, the pit, from which she will rise. I pray 
you let the gentleman, the poet, forgive us for saying what 
the Eldest Son of the Church may regard as blasphemy— 
I do not believe that God troubles Himself about human 
affairs.” 

Though fully resolved to preserve his sovereign in- 
difference, Charles IX. could not control a gesture of 
surprise. 

‘* But for that conviction, I should have no faith in the 
miraculous work to which I have devoted myself. But 
to carry it out, I must believe it; and if the hand of God 
rules all things, [am amadman. So, be it known to the 
King, we aim at winning a victory over the immediate 
course of human nature. 

«*T am an alchemist, Sire; but do not suppose, with 
the vulgar, that Iam striving to make gold. The com. 
position of gold is not the end, but only an incident of 
our researches; else we should not call our undertaking 
Magnum Opus; the great work. The Great Work is 
something far more ambitious than that. If I, at this 
day, could recognize the presence of God in matter, the 
fire of the furnaces that have been burning for centuries 
would be extinguished to-morrow at my bidding. 


Catherine de’ Medici 313 


«* But make no mistake—to deny the direct interfer- 
ence of God is not to deny God. We place the Creator of 
all things far above the level to which religions reduce 
Him. Those who hope for immortality are not to be ac- 
cused of Atheism. Following the example of Lucifer, we — 
are jealous of God, and jealousy is a proof of violent love. 
Though this doctrine lies at the root of our labors, all 
adepts do not accept it. Cosmo,” said the old man, in- 
dicating his brother, ‘‘ Cosmo is devout; he pays for 
masses for the repose of our father’s soul, and he goes 
to hear them. Your mother’s astrologer believes in the 
Divinity of Christ, in the Immaculate Conception, and in. 
Transubstantiation ; he believes in the Pope’s indulgences, 
and in hell—he believes inan infinite number of things,— 
His hour is not yet come, for I have read his horoscope ; 
he will live to be nearly a hundred. He will live through 
two reigns, and see two kings of France assassinated ——” 

«¢ Who will be——?” asked the King. 

«¢ The last of the Valois and the first of the Bourbons,” 
replied Lorenzo. ‘‘ But Cosmo will come to my way of 
thinking. In fact, it is impossible to be an alchemist and 
a Oatholic; to believe in the dominion of man over 
matter, and in the supreme power of mind.” 

«¢ Cosmo will live to be @ hundred ?” said the King, 
knitting his brows in the terrible way that was his 
wont. 

“‘ Yes, Sire,” said Lorenzo decisively. ‘‘ He will die 
peacefully in his bed.” 

‘« Tf it is in your power to predict the moment of your - 
death, how can you be ignorant of the result of your in- 
quiries ?” asked the King. And he smiled triumphantly 
as he looked at Marie Touchet. 

The brothers exchanged a swift look of satisfaction. 

‘«He is interested in alchemy,” thought they, ‘‘ so we 
are safe.” 

**Our prognostic are based on the existing relations of 


314 Catherine de’ Medici . 


man to nature; but the very point we aim at is the com» 
plete alteration of those relations,” replied Lorenzo. 

The King sat thinking. 

** But if you are sure that you must die, you are assured 
of defeat,” said Charles [X. 

** As our predecessors were,” replied Lorenzo, lifting 
his hand and letting it drop with a solemn and emphatic 
gesture, as dignified as his thoughts. ‘‘ But your mind 
has rushed on to the goal of our attempts, Sire ; we must 
come back again, Sire! Unless you know the ground on 
which our edifice is erected, you may persist in saying 
that it will fall, and judge this science, which has been 
pursued for centuries by the greatest minds, as the vulgar 
judge it.” 

The King bowed assent. 

“T believe, then, that this earth belongs to man, that 
he is master of it, and may appropriate all the forces, all 
the elements thereof. Man is not a creature proceeding 
directly from the hand of God, but the result of the prin- 
ciple diffused throughout the infinite Ether, wherein 
myriads of beings are produced; and these have no re- 
semblance to each other between star and star, because 
the conditions of life are everywhere different. Ay, my 
Liege, the motion we call life has its source beyond all 
visible worlds ; creation draws from it as the surrounding 
conditions may require, and the minutest beings share in 
it by taking all they are able, at their own risk and peril ; 
it is their part to defend themselves from death. This is 
the sum-total of alchemy. 

«‘Tf man, the most perfect animal on this globe, had 
within him a fraction of the Godhead, he could not perish 
—but he does perish. To escape from this dilemma, 
Socrates and his school invented the soul. I—the succes- 
sor of the great unknown kings who have ruled this science 
—I am for the old theories against the new ; I believe in 
the transmutation of matter which I can see, as against the 


Catherine de’ Medici 815 


eternity of a soul which I cannot see. Ido not acknowl- 
edge the world of souls. If such a world existed, the 
substances of which the beautiful combination, produces 
your body—and which in Madame are so dazzling—would 
not separate and resolve themselves after your death to 
return each to its own place; the water to water, the fire 
to fire, the metal to metal, just as when my charcoal is 
burnt its elements are restored to their original molecules. 

«‘ Though you say that something lives on, it is not we 
ourselves ; all that constitutes our living self perishes. 

“« Now, it is my living self that I desire to perpetuate 
beyond the common term of life; it is the present mani- 
festation for which I want to secure longer duration. 
What ! trees live for centuries, and men shall live but for 
years, while those are passive and we are active; while 
they are motionless and speechless, and we walk and talk! 
No creature on carth ought to be superior to us either in 
power or permanency. We have already expanded our 
senses ; we can see into the stars. We ought to be able to 
extend our life. I place life above power. Of what use 
is power if life slips from us ? 

‘‘ A rational man ought to have no occupation but that 
of seeking—not whether there is another life—but the 
secret on which our present life is based, so as to be able 
to prolong it at will !—This is the desire that has silvered 
my hair. But I walk on boldly in the darkness, leading 
to battle those intellects which share my faith. Life will 
some day be ours.” 

** But how ?” cried the King, starting to his feet. 

«The first condition of our faith is the belief that this 
world is for man ; you must grant me that,” said Lorenzo. 

‘¢ Well and good, so be it!” said Charles de Valois, 
impatient, but already fascinated. 

‘¢ Well, then, Sire, if we remove God from this world, 
what is left but man? Now let us survey our domain. 
The material world is composed of elements; those ele- 


316 Catherine de’ Medici 


ments have a first principle within them. All these 
principles resolve themselves into one which is gifted with 
motion. The number Three is the formula of creation : 
Matter, Motion, Production !” 

1 ** Proof, proof ? Pause there !” cried the King. 

«“Do you not see the effects ?” replied Lorenzo. ‘‘ We 
have analyzed in our crucibles the acorn from which an 
oak would have arisen as well as the embryo which would 
have become a man ; from these small masses of matter a 
pure element was derived to which some force, some mo- 
tion would have been added. In the absence of a Creator, 
must not that first principle be able to assume the exter- © 
nal forms which constitute our world ? For the phenom- 
ena of life are everywhere the same. Yes, in metals as 
in living beings, in plants as in man, life begins by an 
imperceptible embryo which develops spontaneously. 
There is a first principle! We must detect it at the point 
where it acts on itself, where it is one, where it is a Prin- 
ciple before it is.a Creature, a cause before it is an effect ; 
then we shall see it Absolute—formless, but capable of 
assuming all the forms we see it take. 

‘© When we are face to face with this particle or atom, 
and have detected its motion from the starting-point, we 
shall know its laws ; we are thenceforth its masters, and 
able to impose on it the form we may choose, among all we 
see ; we shall possess gold, having the world, and can give 
ourselves centuries of life to enjoy our wealth. That is 
what we seek, my disciples and I. All our powers, all our 
thoughts are directed to that search; nothing diverts us 
from it. One hour wasted on any other passion would be 
stolen from our greatness! You have never found one of 
your hunting-dogs neglectful of the game or the death, and 
I have never known one of my persevering subjects diverted 
by @ woman or a thought of greed. 

‘If the adept craves for gold and power, that hunger 
eomes of our necessities ; he clutches at fortune as a thirsty 


' Catherine de’ Medici 817 


hound snatches a moment from the chase to drink, be- 
cause his retorts demand a diamond to consume, or ingots — 
to be reduced to powder. Each one has his line of work, | 
This one seeks the secret of vegetable nature, he studies 
the torpid life of plants, he notes the parity of motion in 
every species and the parity of nutrition ; in every case he 
discerns that sun, air, and water are needed for fertility 
and nourishment. Another investigates the blood of ani- 
mals, A third studies the laws of motion generally and 
its relation to the orbits of the stars. Almost all love to 
struggle with the intractable nature of metals ; for though 
we find various elements in everything, we always find 
metals the same throughout, down to their minutest 
particles. 

*¢ Hence the common error as to our labors. Do you 
see all these patient toilers, these indefatigable athletes, 
always vanquished, and always returning to the assault? 
Humanity, Sire, is at our heels, as your huntsman is at the 
heels of the pack. It cries to us, ‘Hurry on! Overlook 
nothing! Sacrifice everything, even a man—you who 
sacrifice yourselves! Hurry onward! Cut off the head | 
and hands of Death, my foe !” 

«* Yes, Sire, we are animated by a sentiment on which 
the happiness depends of generations to come. We have 
buried many men—and what men !—who have died in the 
pursuit. When weset foot on that road it is not to work 
for ourselves : we may perish without discovering the 
secret. And what a death is that of a man who does not 
believe in afuture life! Weare glorious martyrs ; we bear 
the selfishness of the whole race in our hearts ; we live in 
our successors. On our way we discover secrets which en- 
richthe mechanical and liberal arts. Our furnaces shed 
gleams of light which help society to possess more perfect 
forms of industry. Gunpowder was discovered in our re- 
torts; we shall conquer the thunder yet. Our patent 
vigils may overthrow politics.” 


818 Catherine de’ Medici 


“Can that be possible!” cried the King, sitting up 
again on the settle. 

«« Why not ?” replied the Grand Master of the New Tem- 
plars. Tradidit mundum disputationibus! God has 
given us the world. Listen to this once again! Man is 
lord on earth, and matter is his. Every means, every 
power is at his service. What created us ? A motion. 
What power keeps life in us? A motion ? And should 
not science grasp this motion ? Nothing on earth is lost, 
nothing flies off from our planet to go elsewhere; if it 
were so, the stars would fall on one another. The waters 
of the Deluge are all here, and not a drop lost. Around 
us, above, below, are the elements whence have proceeded 
the innumerable millions of men who have trodden the 
earth, before and since the Deluge. What is it that re- 
mains to be done? ‘To detect the disintegrating force ; 
on the other hand, to discover the combining force. We 
are the outcome of a visible toil. When the waters covered 
our globe, men came forth from them who found the ele- 
ments of life in the earth’s covering, in the atmosphere and 
in food. Earth and air, then, contain the first principle 
of human transformations; these go on under our eyes 
by the agency of what is under our eyes; hence we can 
discover the secret by not confining our efforts to the span 
of one man’s life, but making the task endure as long as 
mankind itself. We have, in fact, attacked matter asa 
whole; Matter in which I believe, and which I, Grand Mas- 
ter of our Order, am bent on penetrating. 

** Christopher Columbus gave a world to the King of 
Spain ; I am seeking to give the King of France a people 
that shall never die.—I, an outpost on the remotest frontier 
which cuts us off from the knowledge of things, a patient 
student of atoms, I destroy forms, I dissolve the bonds of 
every combination, I imitate Death to enable me to imitate 
Life. In short, I knock incessantly at the door of Creation, 
and shall still knock till my latest day. When I die, my 


Catherine de’ Medici 819 


knocker will pass into other hands not less-indefatigable, 
as unknown giants bequeathed it to me. 

‘* Fabulous images, never understood, such as those of 
Prometheus, of Ixion, of Adonis, of Pan, etc., which are 
part of the religious beliefs of every people and in every 
age, show us that this hope had its birth with the human 
. race. Chaldwa, India, Persia, Egypt, Greece, and the 
Moors have transmitted Magian lore the highest of all the 
occult sciences, the storehouse of the results of generations 
of watchers. Therein lay the bond of the noble and majes- 
tic Order of the Temple. When he burned the Templars, 
a predecessor of yours, Sire, only burned men; their 
secrets remain with us. The reconstruction of the Tem- 
ple is the watchword of an unrecognized people, a race of 
intrepid seekers, all looking to the Orient of life, all 
brethren, all inseparable, united by an idea, stamped with 
the seal of toil. Iam the sovereign of this people, their 
chief by election and not by birth. I guide them all to- 
wards the essence of life! Grand Master, Rosicrucians, 
companions, adepts, we all pursue the invisible molecule 
which escapes our crucibles, and still evades our sight ; 
but we shall make ourselves eyes manifold more powerful 
than those bestowed on us by nature ; we shall get to the 
primitive atom, the corpuscular element so perseveringly 
sought by all the sages who had preceded us in the sub- 
lime pursuit. 

‘‘Sire, when a man stands astride on that abyss, and 
has at his command divers so intrepid as my brethren, 
other human interests look very small; hence we are not 
dangerous. Religious disputes and political struggles are 
far from us; we are immeasurably beyond them. Those 
who contend with nature do not condescend to take men 
by the throat. 

“¢ Moreover, every result in our science is appreciable ; 
we can measure every effect, we can predict it, whereas in 
the combinations which include men and their interests 


820 Catherine de’ Medici 


everything is unstable. We shall submit the diamond to 
our crucible; we shall make diamonds; we shall make 
gold! Like one of our craft at Barcelona, we shall make 
ships move by the help of a little water and fire. Weshail 
dispense with the wind, nay, we shall make the wind, we 
shall make light and renew the face of empires by new in- 
dustries |—But we will never stoop to mount a throne to 
be gehennaed by nations.” 

Notwithstanding his desire to avoid being entrapped 
by Florentine cunning, the King, as well as his simple- 
minded mistress, was by this time caught and carried 
away in the rhetoric and rhodomontade of this pompous 
and specious flow of words. The lovers’ eyes betrayed 
how much they were dazzled by the vision of mysterious 
riches spread out before them ; they saw, as it were, 
subterranean caverns in long perspective full of toiling 
gnomes. The impatience of curiosity dissipated the alarms 
of suspicion. 

«But, then,” exclaimed the King, ‘‘ you are great poli- 
ticians, and can enlighten us.” 

“No, Sire,” said Lorenzo simply. 

«« Why not ?” asked the king. 

‘Sire, it is given to no one to be able to predict what 
will come of a concourse of some thousands of men ; we 
may be able to tell what one man will do, how long he 
will live, and whether he will be lucky or unlucky ; but 
we cannot tell how several wills thrown together will act, 
and any calculation of the swing of their interests is even 
more difficult, for interests are men plus things; only in 
solitude can we discern the general aspect of the future. 
The Protestantism that is devouring you will be devoured 
in its turn by its practical outcome, which, in its day, 
will become a theory too. Europe, so far, has not gone 
further than religion ; to-morrow it will attack Royalty.” 

«Then the night of Saint-Bartholomew was a great con- 


_eeption P” 


- 


; : Catherine de’ Medici ~ . 321 


“Yes, Sire ; for when the people triumph, they will 
have their Saint-Bartholomew. When Religion and 
Royalty are swept away, the people will attack the great, 
and after the great they will fall upon the rich. Finally, . 
when Europe is no more than a dismembered herd of men 
for lack of leaders, it will be swallowed up by vulgar con- 
querors. The world has presented a similar spectacle 
twenty times before, and Europe is beginning again. 
Ideas devour the ages as men are devoured by their pas- 
sions. When man is cured, human nature will cure itself 
perhaps. Science is the soul of mankind, and we are its 
pontiffs ; and those who study the soul care but little for 
the body.” 

“ How far have you gone ?” asked the King. 

“¢We move but slowly ; but we never lose what we have 
once conquered.” 

“So you, in fact, are the King of the Wizards,” said 
Charles IX., piqued at finding himself so small a person- 
age in the presence of this man. 

The imposing Grand Master of Adepts flashed a look at 
him that left him thunder-stricken, 

‘You are the King of men,” replied he; “I am the 
King of ideas. Besides, if there were real wizards, you 
could not have burnt them!” he added, with a tonch of 
irony. ‘“* We too have se martyrs.” 

“‘ But by what means,” the King went on, “‘ do you cast 
nativities ? How did you know that the man near your 
window last night was the King of France? What power, 
enabled one of your race to foretell to my mother the fate 
of her three sons ? Can yon, the Grand Master of the 
Order that would fain knead the world,—can you, I say, 
tell me what the Queen my mother is thinking at this 
moment ?” 

«Yes, Sire.” 

The answer was spoken before Cosmo could pnil his © 


shag coat to warn him, 
? 


322 Catherine de’ Medici 


“You know why my brother, the King of Poland, is 
returning home ?” 

“< Yes, Sire.” 

«© And why ?” 

«To take your place.” 

‘‘Our bitterest enemies are our own kith and kin,” 
cried the King, starting up in a fury, and striding up and 
down the rcom. ‘‘ Kings have no brothers, no sons, no 
mother! Coligny was right; my executioners are in the 
conventicles, they are at the Louvre. You are either im- 
posters or regicides !—Jacob, call in Solern.” 

‘© My Lord,” said Marie Touchet, ‘‘the Ruggieri have 
your word of honor. You have chosen to eat of the fruit 
of the tree of knowledge ; do not complain of its bitter- 
ness.” 

The King smiled with an expression of deep contempt ; 
his material sovereignty seemed small in his eyes in com- 
parison with the supreme intellectual sovereignty of old 
Lorenzo Ruggieri. Charles IX. could scarcely govern 
France ; the Grand Master of the Rosicrucians commanded 
an intelligent and submissive people. 

“Be frank ; I give you my word as a gentleman that 
your reply, even if it should contain the avowal of the 
worst crimes, shall be as though it had never been spoken,” 
the King said. ‘‘ Do you study poisons ?” 

«<'T'o know what will secure life, it is needful to know 
what will cause death.” 

«© You have the secret of many poisons ?” 

«*Yes, but in theory only, and not in practise; we 
know them, but do not use them.” 

«¢ Has my mother asked for any ?” 

“The Queen-mother, Sire, is far too clever to have re- 
course to such means. She knows that the sovereign who 
uses poisons shall perish by poison; the Borgias, and 
Bianca, Grand Duchess of Tuscany, are celebrated ex- 
amples of the dangers incurred by those who use such 


Catherine de’ Medici 328 


odious means. At Court everything is known. You can 
kill a poor wretch outright ; of what use, then, is it to 
‘poison him? But if you attempt the life of conspicuous 
persons, what chance is there of secrecy ? Nobody could 
haye fired at Coligny but you, or the Queen-mother, or 
one of the Guises. No one made any mistake about that. 
Take my word for it, in politics poison cannot be used 
twice with impunity ; princes always have successors. 

«As to smaller men, if, like Luther, they become soy- 
ereigns by the power of ideas, by killing them you do not 
kill their doctrine.—The Queen is a Florentine ; she 
knows that poison can only be the instrument of private 
vengeance. My brother, who has never left her since she 
came to France, knows how deeply Madame Diane ag- 
grieved her; she never thought of poisoning her,-and she 
could have done so. What would the King your father 
have said ? No woman would have been more thoroughly 
justified, or more certain of impunity. But Madame de 
Valentinois is alive to this day.” 

«* And the magic of wax images ?” asked the King. 

‘* Sire,” said Cosmo, ‘‘ those figures are so entirely in- 
nocuous that we lend»ourselves to such magic to satisfy 
blind passions, like physicians who give bread pills to per- 
sons who fancy themselves sick. A desperate woman im- 
agines that by stabbing the heart of an image she brings 
disaster on the faithless lover it represents. What can 
we say? These are our taxes.” 

‘‘The Pope sells indulgences,” said Lorenzo Ruggieri, 
smiling. 

«¢ Does my mother make use of such images ?” 

‘Of what use would such futile means be to her who 
can do what she will ?” 

‘Could Queen Catherine save you at this moment ?” 
asked Charles ominously. 

‘« We are in no danger, Sire,” said Lorenzo calmly. ‘«I 
knew before I entered this house that I should leave it 


$24 _ Catherine de’ Medici 


safe and sound, as surely as I know the ill-feeling that the 
King will bear my brother a few days hence; but, even if 
he should run some risk, he will triumph. Though the 
King reigns by the sword, he also reigns by justice,” he 
added, in allusion to the famous motto on a medal struck 
for Charles IX. 

**You know everything ; I shall die before long, and 
that is well,” returned the King, hiding his wrath under 
feverish impatience. ‘‘ But how will my brother die, who, 
according to you, is to be Henri III. ?” 

« A violent death.” 

*« And Monsieur d’Alengon ?” 

‘¢ He will never reign.” 

«Then Henri de Bourbon will be King ?” 

** Yes; Sire.” 

«¢ And what death will he die ?” 

«A violent death.” 

‘¢ And when I am dead, what will become of Madame ?” 
asked the King, turning to Marie Touchet. 

«‘ Madame de Belleville will marry, Sire.” 

“You are impostors!—Send them away, my Lord,” 
said Marie Touchet. 

“‘Dear heart, the Ruggieri have my word as a gentle- 
man,” said Charles, smiling. ‘‘ Will Marie have children ?” 

‘¢ Yes—and Madame will live to be more than eighty.” 

«Must Ihave them hanged?” said the King to his 
_ mistress. —‘* And my son, the Comte d’Auvergne ?” said 
_ Charles, rising to fetch the child. 

«‘Why did you tell him that I should marry ?” said 
Marie Touchet to the two brothers during the few mo- 
ments when they were alone. 

‘‘ Madame,” replied Lorenzo with dignity, “the King 
required us to tell the truth, and we told it.” 

«‘Then it is true?” said she. 

‘* As true as that the Governor of Orleans loves you to 
distraction.” 


Catherine de’ Medici 325 


* But I do not love him,” cried she. : 

‘That is true, Madame,” said Lorenzo. ‘‘ But your 
horoscope shows that you are to marry the man who at 
present loves you.” 

** Could you not tell a little lie for my sake ?” said she 
with asmile. ‘For if the King should believe your fore- 
cast—— 

‘« Ts it not necessary that he should believe in our inno- 
cence ?” said Cosmo, with a glance full of meaning. 
«¢ The precautions taken by the King against us have given 
us reason, during the time we spent in your pretty jail, 
to suppose that a occult sciences must have been ma- 
ligned in his ears.’ 

‘« Be quite easy,” replied Marie ; ‘‘ I know him, and his 
doubts are dispelled.” 

** We are innocent,” said the old man haughtily. 

«So much the better ; for at this moment the King is 
having your laboratory searched and your crucibles and 
phials examined by experts.” 

The brothers looked at each other and smiled. 

Marie took this smile for the irony of innocence ; but 
it meant: “‘ Poor simpletons! Do you suppose that if we 
know how to prepare poisons, we do not also know how 
to conceal them ?” 

‘* Where are the King’s people, then ?” asked Cosmo. 

“In René’s house,” replied Marie; and the Ruggieri 
_ exchanged a glance which conveyed from each to each 
the same thought. “‘ The Hotel de Soissons is inviolable !” 

The King had so completely thrown off his suspicions, — 
that when he went to fetch his son, and Jacob intercept- 
ed him to give him a note written by Chapelain, he opened 
it in the certainty of finding in it what his physician told 
him concerning his visit to the laboratory, where all that 
had been discovered bore solely on alchemy. 

‘Will he live happy?” asked the King, showing his 
infant son to the two alchemists. 


826 Catherine de’ Medici 


‘‘This is Cosmo’s concern,” said Lorenzo, turning to 
his brother. 

Cosmo took the child’s little hand and studied it care- 
fully. 

“‘ Monsieur,” said Charles IX. to the elder man, ‘if 
you are compelled to deny the existence of the spirit te 
believe that your enterprise is possible, tell me how it is 
that you can doubt that which constitutes your power. 
The mind you desire to annihilate is the torch that illumines 
your search. Ah,ha! Is not that moving while denying 
the fact of motion ?” cried he, and pleased at having hit 
on this argument, he looked triumphantly at his mistress. 

‘« Mind,” said Lorenzo Ruggieri, “‘is the exercise of an 
internal sense, just as the faculty of seeing various objects 
and appreciating their form and color is the exercise of 
our sight. That has nothing to do with what is assumed 
as to another life. Mind—thought—is a faculty which 
may cease even during life with the forces that produce it.” 

‘< You are logical,” said the King with surprise. ‘‘ But 
alchemy is an atheistical science.” 

‘Materialist, Sire, which is quite a different thing. 
Materialism is the outcome of the Indian doctrines trans- 
mitted through the mysteries of Isis to Chaldea and 
Egypt, and brought back to Greece by Pythagoras, one 
of the demi-gods among men ; his doctrine of transmigra- 
tion is the mathematics of materialism, the living law of 
its phases. Each of the different creations which make 
up the earthly creation possesses the power of retarding 
the impulse that drags it into another form. 

‘‘Then alchemy is the science of sciences!” cried 
Charles IX., fired with enthusiasm. I must see you at 
work. 

‘* As often as you will, Sire. You cannot be more eager 
than the Queen your mother.” 

‘‘Ah! That is why she is so much attached to you!” 
cried the King, 


Catherine de’ Medici - 327 


**The House of Medici has secretly encouraged our 
research for almost a century past.” - 

“Sire,” said Cosmo, ‘‘ this child will live nearly a hun- 
dred years; he will meet with some checks, but will be 
happy and honored, having in his veins the blood of the 
Valois.” 

‘« T will go to see you,” said the King, who had recovered 
his good humor. ‘‘ You can go.” 

The brothers bowed to Marie and Charles IX. and with-' 
drew. ‘They solemnly descended the stairs, neither look- 
ing at each other nor speaking ; they did not even turn to 
look up at the windows from the courtyard, so sure were 
they that the King’s eye was on them; and, in fact, as 
they turned to pass through the gate, they saw-Charles 
IX. at a window. 

As soon as the alchemist and the astrologer were in the 
Rue de l’Autruche, they cast a look in front and behind 
to see that no one was either following them or waiting for 
them, and went on as far as the Louvre moat without 
speaking a word ; but there, finding that they were alone, 
Lorenzo said to Cosmo in the Florentine Italian of the 
time— 

“Affe @Iddio! como le abbiamo infinocchiato!” (By 
God, we have caught them finely !) 

“« Gran mercés! a lui sta di spartojarst ”»—(Much good 
may it do him ; he must make what he can of it)—said 
Cosmo. ‘‘ May the Queen do as much forme! We have 
done a good stroke for her.” 


Some days after this scene, which had struck Marie 
Touchet no less than the King, in one of those moments 
when in the fulness of joy the mind is in some sort 
released from the body, Marie exclaimed— 

“‘ Charles, I understand Lorenzo Ruggieri; but Cosmo 
said nothing.” 

» That is true,” said the King, startled by this sudden 


328° Catherine de’ Medici- 


flash of light, ‘‘and there was as much falsehood as truth 
in what they said. Those Italians are as slippery as the 
silk they spin.” 

This suspicion explains the hatred of Cosmo that the 
King betrayed on the occasion of the trial on the con- 
spiracy of la Mole and Coconnas. When he found that 
Cosmo was one of the contrivers of that plot, the King 
believed himself duped by the two Italians ; for it proved 
to him that his mother’s astrologer did not devote himself 
_ exclusively to studying the stars, fulminating powder and 

final atoms. ‘Lorenzo had then left the country. 

In spite of many persons’ incredulity of such things, the 
events which followed this scene confirmed the prophecies 
uttered by the Ruggieri. 

The King died three months later. The Comte de 
Gondi followed Charles IX. to the tomb, as he had been 
told that he would by his brother, the Maréchal de Retz, 
a friend of the Ruggieri, and a believer in their foresight. 

Marie Touchet married Charles de Balzac, Marquis 
d’Entragues, Governor of Orleans, by whom she had two 
daughters. The more famous of these two, the Comte 
d’Auvergne’s half-sister, was Henri IV.’s mistress, and at 
the time of Biron’s conspiracy tried to place her brother 
on the throne of France and oust the Bourbons. 

The Comte d’Auvergne, made Duc d’Angouléme, lived 
till the reign of Louis XIV. He coined money in his 
province, altering the superscription; but Louis XIV. 
did not interfere, so great was his respect for the blood of 
the Valois. 

Cosmo lived till after the accession of Louis XIII. ; he 
saw the fall of the House of Medici in France and the 
overthrow of the Concini. History has taken care to re- 
cord that he died an atheist—that is to say, a materialist. 

The Marquise d’Entragnes was more than eighty when 
she died. 

Lorenzo and Cosmo had for their disciple the famous 


Catherine de’ Medici 339 


Comte do Saint-Germain, who became notorious under 
Louis XV. The great alchemist was not less than a 


hundred and thirty years old, the age to which some bio- ~ . 


graphers say Marion Delorme attained. The Count may 
have heard from the Ruggieri anecdotes of the Massacre 
of Saint-Bartholomew and of the reigns of the Valois, in 
which they could at pleasure assume a part by speaking in 
the first person. The Comte de Saint-Germain is the last 
professor of alchemy who explained the science well, but 
he left no writings. The doctrine of the Cabala set forth 
in this volume was derived from that mysterious personage. 

It is a strange thing! Three men’s lives, that of the 
old man from whom this information was obtained, that 
of the Comte de Saint-Germain, and that of Cosmo Rug- 
gieri, embrace European history from the reign of Francis 
I. to that of Napaleon. Only fifty lives of equal length. 
would cover the time to as far back as the first known 
epoch of the world.—‘‘ What are fifty generations for 
studying the mysteries of life?” the Comte de Suaint- 
Germain used to say. 


Paris, November-December 1836. 


PART III. 


THE TWO DREAMS. 


.N 1786 Bodard de Saint-James, treasurer to the Navy, 
was of all the financiers of Paris the one whose luxury gave 
rise to most remark and gossip. At that time he was 
building his famous Folly at Neuilly, and his wife bought, 
to crown the tester of her bed, a plume of feathers of 
which the price had dismayed the Queen. It was far easier 
then than now to make oneself the fashion and be talked 
of by all Paris ; a witticism was often quite enough, or the 
caprice of a woman. 

Bodard lived in the fine house in the Place Vendéme 
which the farmer-general Dangé had not leng since been 
compelled to quit. This notorious Epicurean was lately 
dead ; and on the day when he was buried, Monsieur de 
Biévre, his intimate friend, had found matter for a jest, 
_ saying that now one could cross the Place Vendéme with- 
out danger (or Dangé). This allusion to the terrific 
gambling that went on in the deceased man’s house was 
his funeral oration. The house is that opposite to the 
Chancellerie. 

To complete Bodard’s history as briefly as possible, he 
was a poor creature, he failed for fourteen millions of 
franes after the Prince de Guéménée. His clumsiness in 
not anticipating that Serene bankruptcy—to use an ex- 
pression of Lebrun-Pindare’s—led to his never even being 
mentioned. He died in a garret, like Bourvalais, Bouret, 
and many others. 

Madame de Saint-James indulged an ambition of never 


receiving any but people of quality—a stale absurdity that 
330 


Catherine de’ Medici 8381 


is ever new. ‘To her the cap of a lawyer in the Parlement 
was but a small affair ; she wanted to see her rooms filled 
with persons of title who had at least the minor privileges 
of entrée at Versailles. To say that many blue ribbons 
were to be seen in the lady’s house would be untrue; but 
it is quite certain that she had succeeded in winning the 
civility and attention of some members of the Roman 
family, as was proved subsequently in the too famous case 
of the Queen’s necklace. 

One evening—it was, I believe, in August, 1786—I was 
greatly surprised to see in this millionaire’s room, precise 
as she was in the matter of proofs of rank, two new faces, 
which struck me as being of decidedly inferior birth. 

She came up to me as I stood in a window recess, where 
I had intentionally ensconced myself. 

“Do tell me,” said I, with a questioning glance at one 
of these strangers, ‘‘ who is that specimen ? How did he 
get into your house ?” 

‘He is a charming man.” 

‘Do you see him through the prism of love, or am I 
mistaken in him ?” 

**You are not mistaken,” she replied, laughing ; ‘‘he 
is as ugly as a toad ; but he has done me the greatest serv- 
ice @ woman can accept from a man.” 

As I looked at her with mischievous meaning, she 
hastened to add—‘‘ He has entirely cured me of the ugly 
red patches which spoilt my complexion and made me look 
like a peasant woman.” 

I shrugged my shoulders with disgust. 

«* A quack!” T exclaimed. 

“*No,” said she, ‘‘ he is a physician to the Court pages. 
He is clever and amusing, I assure you ; and he has written 
books too. He isa very learned physicist.” 

‘* Tf his literary style is like his face !——” said I, smil- 
ing. ‘And the other ?” 

“* What other?” 


882 Catherine de’ Medici 


«That little prim man, as neat as a doll, and who looks 
as if he drank verjuice,” 

**He is a man of good family,” said she. ‘He has 
come from some province—I forget which.—Ah ! yes, 
from Artois. He is in Paris to wind up some affair that 
concerns the Cardinal, and His Eminence has just intro- 
duced him to Monsieur de Saint-James. They have agreed 
in choosing Monsieur de Saint-James to be arbitrator. 
In that the gentleman from the provinces has not shown 
much wisdom. What are people thinking of when they 
placea casein that man’s hands ? Heisas gentle asalamb, 
and asshy asa girl, His Eminence is most kind to him.” 

«« What is it about ?” said I. 

*« Three hundred thousand livres,” said she. 

‘* What ! a lawyer ?” I asked, with a little start of as- 
tonishment. 

«« Yes,” replied she. 

And, somewhat disturbed by having to make this humil- 
iating confession, Madame Bodard returned to her game of 
faro. 

Every table was made up. I had nothing to do or to 
say. I had just lost two thousand crowns to Monsieur de 
Laval, whom I had met in a courtesan’s drawing-room. I 
went to take a seat in a deep chair near the fire. If ever 
on this earth there was an astonished man, it certainly 
was I on discovering that my opposite neighbor was the 
Controller-General. Monsieur de Calonne seemed to be 
drowsy, or else he was absorbed in one of those brown 
studies which come over a statesman. When I pointed 
out the Minister to Beaumarchais, who came to speak to 
me, the creator of Figaro explained the mystery without 
speaking a word. He pointed first to my head and then 
to Bodard’s in an ingeniously significant way, by directing 
his thumb to one and his little finger to the other, with 
the rest of the fingers closed. My first impulse was to go 
and say something sharp to Calonne, but I sat still; in 


Catherine de’ Medici 338 


the first place, because I intended to play the favorite a 
trick, and also because Beaumarchais had somewhat 
familiarly seized my hand, 

*¢ What is it, Monsieur?” said I. 

With a wink he indicated the Minister. 

‘¢ Do not wake him,” he said in a low tone; ‘‘ we may 
be only too thankful when he sleeps.” 

‘¢ But even sleeping is a scheme of finance,” said ¥; 

‘* Certainly it is,” replied the statesman, who had read 
our words by the mere motion of our lips. ‘‘ And would to 
God we could sleep a long time ; there would not be such 
an awakening as you will see!” 

‘* Monseigneur,” said the play-writer, “I owe you some 
thanks.” 

‘© What for ?” 

‘‘ Monsieur de Mirabeau is gone to Berlin. Ido not 
«now whether in this matter of the Waters we may not 
both be drowned.” 

‘¢ You have too much memory and too little gratitude,” 
seplied the Minister drily, vexed at this betrayal of one of 
his secrets before me. 

*‘Very possibly,” said Beaumarchais, greatly nettled. 
‘© But I have certain millions which may square many 
accounts.” Calonne affected not to have heard. 

It was half-past twelve before the card-tables broke up. 
Then we sat down to supper—ten of us: Bodard and 
ais wife, the Controller-General, Beaumarchais, the two 
strangers, two pretty women whose*names may not be 
mentioned, and a farmer-general named, I think, Lavoisier. 
‘Df thirty persons whom I had found on entering the draw- 
ing-room but these ten remained. And the two ‘‘speci- 
mens” would only stay to supper on the pressing invitation 
of the lady of the house, who thought she could discharge 
her debt to one by giving him a meal, and asked the other 
perhaps to please her husband, to whom she was doing the 
civil—wherefore I know not. Monsieur de Calonne was a 


334 Catherine de’ Medici 


power, and if any one had cause to be annoyed it would 
have been I. 

The supper was at first deadly dull. The two men and 
the farmer-general weighed onus. I signed to Beaumar- 
chais to make the son of Esculapius, by whom he was sit- - 
ting, drink till he was tipsy, giving him to understand that — 
I would deal with the lawyer. As this was the only kind 
of amusement open to us, and as it gave promise of some 
blundering impertinence on the part of the two strangers, 
which amused us by anticipation, Monsieur de Calonne 
smiled on the scheme. ‘In two seconds the ladies had en- 
tered into our Bacchic plot. By significant glances they 
expressed their readiness to play their part, and the wine 
of Sillery crowned our glasses again and again with silvery 
foam. The surgeon was easy enough to deal with; but 
as I was about to pour out my neighbor’s second glass, he 
told me with the cold politeness of a money-lender that he 
would drink no more. 

At this time, by what chance I know not, Madame de 
Saint-James had turned the conversation on the wonderful 
suppers to the Comte de Cagliostro, given by the Cardinal 
de Rohan. My attention was not too keenly alive to what 
the mistress of the house was saying ; for since her reply 
I had watched, with invincible curiosity, my neighbor’s 
pinched, thin face, of which the principal feature was a 
nose at once wide and sharp, which made him at times 
look very like a ferret. Suddenly his cheeks flushed as he 
heard Madame de Saint-James disputing with Monsieur — 
de Calonne. 

«But I assure you, Monsieur,” said she in a positive 
tone, ‘‘ that I have seen Queen Cleopatra.” 

“‘T believe it, Madame,” said my neighbor. ‘I nave 
spoken to Catherine de’ Medici.” 

«Oh! oh!” said Monsieur de Calonne. 

The words spoken by the little provincial had an inde- 
scribably sonorous tone—to use a word borrowed from 


Catherine de’ Medici 335 


physical science. This sudden clearness of enunciation, 
from a man who till now had spoken very little and very 
low, in the best possible taste, surprised us in the highest 
degree. 

«Why, he is talking!” exclaimed the surgeon, whom 
Beaumarchais had worked up to a satisfactory condition. 

‘His neighbor must have touched a spring,” replied 
the satirist. 

Our man colored a little as he heard these words, though 
they were spoken in a murmur. 

«¢ And what was the late lamented Queen like ?” asked 
Calonne. 

‘JT will not assert that the person with whom I supped 
last night was Catherine de’ Medici herself ; such a mira- 
cle must seem as impossible to a Christian as to a philoso- 
pher,” replied the lawyer, resting his finger-tips lightly 
on the table, and leaning back in his chair as if preparing 
to speak at some length. ‘‘ But, at any rate, I can swear 
that that woman was as like to Catherine de’ Medici as 
though they had been sisters. The lady I saw wore a black 
velvet dress, absolutely like that which the Queen is wear- 
ing in the portrait belonging to the King; on her head 
was the characteristic black velvet cap; her complexion 
was colorless, and her face the face you know. I could 
not help expressing my surprise to His Eminence. The 
suddenness of the apparition was all the more wonderful 
because Monsieur le Comte de Cagliostro could not guess 
the name of the personage in whose company I wished to 
be. I was utterly amazed. The magical spectacle of a 
supper where such illustrious women of the past were the 
guests robbed me of my presence of mind. When, at 
abont midnight, I got away from this scene of witchcraft, 
I almost doubted my own identity. 

“‘But all these marvels seemed quite natural by com- 
parison with the strange hallucination under which I was 
presently to fall. I know not what words I can use to 


336 Catherine de’ Medici 


describe the condition of my senses. But I can declare, in 
all sincerity of heart, that I no longer wonder that there 
should have been, of old, spirits weak enough—or strong 
enough—to believe in the mysteries of magic and the power 
of the Devil. For my part, till I have ampler informa- 
tion I regard the apparitions of which Carden and certain 
other thaumaturgists have spoken as quite possible.” 

These words, pronounced with incredible eloquence of 
tone, were of a nature to rouse extreme curiosity in those 
present. Our looks all centered on the orator, and we sat 
motionless. Our eyes alone showed life as they reflected 
the bright wax lights in the candlesticks. By dint of 
watching the stranger, we fancied we could see an emana- 
tion from the pores of his face, and especially from those 
of his brow, of the inner feelings that wholly possessed 
him. This man, apparently so cold and strictly reserved, 
seemed to have within him a hidden fire, of which the 
flame came forth to us.. 

**T know not,” he went on, “ whether the figure I had 
seen called up made itself invisible to follow me; but as 
soon as I had laid my head on my pillow, I saw the grand 
shade of Catherine rise before me. I instinctively felt my- 
self in a luminous sphere; for my eyes, attracted to the 
Queen with painful fixity, saw her alone. Suddenly she 
bent over me——” 

At these words the ladies with one consent betrayed 
keener curiosity. 

“But,” said the lawyer, “I do not know whether I 
ought to go on; although I am inclined to think that it 
was but a dream, what remains to be told is serious.” 

“Does it bear on religion ?”’ asked Beaumarchais. 

“Or is it in any way indecent?” asked Calonne. 
«These ladies will forgive it.” 

“Tt bears on government,” replied the law er. 

“Go on,” said the Minister. ‘‘ Voltaire, Diderot, and 
their like have done much to educate our ears.” 


‘ Catherine de’ Medici -' $8T 


The Goatchllet Gen oral was all attention, and his neigh- 
bor, Madame de Genlis, became absorbed. The stranger 
still hesitated. Then Basumarchais exclaimed impetu- 
ously— 

** Come, proceed, Maitre! Do not you know that when 
the laws leave folks so little liberty, people revenge them- 
selves by laxity of manners ?” 

So the lawyer went on— 

*« Whether it was that certain ideas were fermenting in 
my soul, or that I was prompted by some unknown power, 
I said to her— 

««* Ah, Madame, you committed a very great crime.’ 

<¢* Which ?’ she asked in a deep voice. . 

«‘«That for which the signal was given by the Palace 
clock on the 24th of August.’ 

‘She smiled scornfully, and some deep furrows showed 
on her pallid cheeks. 

««« To you call that a crime ?’ replied she ; ‘it was only 
an accident. The undertaking was badly managed, and 
the good result we looked for failed—for France, for all 
Europe, and for the Catholic Church. How could we help 
it ? Our orders were badly carried out. We could not 
find so many Montlucs as we needed. Posterity will not 
give us credit for the defective communications which 
hindered us from giving our work the unity of impulse 
which is necessary to any great Coup d’Etat ; that was our 
misfortune. If by the 25th of August not the shadow ofa 
Huguenot had been left in France, I should have been re- 
garded to the remotest posterity as a noble incarnation of 
Providence. How often have the clear-seeing spirits of 
Sixtus V., of Richelieu, of Bossuet, secretly accused me of 
having failed in my undertaking, after daring to conceive 
of it! And how many regrets attended my death ! 

‘««« The disease was still rife thirty years after that Saint- 
Bartholomew’s night ; and it had caused the shedding of 


ten times more noble blood in France than was left to be 
24 


Y 


838 Catherine de’ Medici 


shed on August 26, 1572. The revocation of the Edict 
of Nantes, for which you had medals struck, cost more 
tears, more blood and money, and killed more prosperity 
in France than‘ three Saint-Bartholomews.  Letellier, 
with a dip of ink, carried into effect the decree which the 
Crown had secretly desired since my day; but though on 
August 25, 1572, this tremendous execution was necessary, 
on August 25, 1685, it was useless. Under Henri de 
Valois’ second son heresy was scarcely pregnant ; under 
Henri de Bourbon’s second son the teeming mother had 
cast her spawn over the whole world. 

««< You accuse me of crime, and you raise statues to the 
son of Anne of Austria! But he and I aimed at the same 
end. He succeeded ; I failed; but Lonis XIV. found 
the Protestants disarmed, while in my day they had power- 
ful armies, statesmen, captains, and Germany to back 
them.” 

‘‘On hearing these words slowly spoken, I felt within 
me a tremulous thrill. I seemed to scent the blood of I 
know not what victims. Catherine had grown before me. 
She stood there like an evil genius, and I felt as if she 
wanted to get into my conscience to find rest there——” 

“‘He must have dreamed that,” said Beaumarchais, in 
alow voice. ‘‘ He certainly never invented it.” 

«©«My reason is confounded,’ said I to the Queen. 
«You pride yourself on an action which three generations 
have condemned and held accursed, and———’ 

<< Add,’ said she, ‘that writers have been more unjust 
to me than my contemporaries were. No one undertakes 
my defense. I am accused of ambition—I who was so 
rich anda Queen. Iam taxed with crnelty—I who have 
but two decapitations on my conscience. And to the most 
impartial minds I am still, no doubt, a great riddle. Do 
you really believe that I was governed by feelings of hatred, 
that I breathed only vengeance and fury?’ She smiled 
scornfully. ‘I was as calm and cold as Reason itself. I 


Catherine de’ Medici 339 


condemned the Huguenots without pity, but without 
anger ; they were the rotten orange in my basket. IfI 
had been Queen of England, I should have judged the 
Catholics in the same way, if they had been seditious. To 
give our power any vitality at that period, only one God 
could be allowed in the State, only one faith and one 
master. Happily for me, I left my excuse recorded in 
one sentence. When Birague brought me a false report of 
the loss of the battle of Dreux—‘ Well and good,’ said I, 
‘then we will go to Sermon.’ Hate the leaders of the 
New Religion? LI esteemed them highly, and I did not 
know them. IfI ever felt an aversion for any political 
personage, it was for that cowardly Cardinal de Lorraine, 
and for his brother, a wily and brutal soldier, who had 
me watched by their spies. They were my children’s 
enemies ; they wanted to snatch the crown from them; 
I saw them every day, and they were more than I could 
bear. If we had not carried out the plan for Saint-Bar- 
tholomew’s Day, the Guises would have done it with the 
help of Rome and its monks. The Ligue, which had no 
power till I had grown old, would have begun in 1573.’ 

««<« But, Madame,’ said I, ‘ instead of commanding that 
horrible butchery—excuse my frankness—why did you not 
employ the vast resources of your political genius in giving 
the Reformers the wise institutions which made Henri IV.’s 
reign so glorious and peaceful ? ” 

‘‘She smiled again, shrugging her shoulders, and her 
hollow wrinkles gave her pale features an ironical expres- 
sion full of bitterness. 

««« After a furious struggle a nation needs repose,’ said 
she. ‘That is the secret of that reign. But Henri IV. 
committed two irremediable blunders. He ought neither 
to have abjured Protestantism nor to have left France 
Catholic after his own conversion. Healone has ever been 
in a position to change the face of France without a shock. 
Hither not a single stole, or not a single conventicle ! 


840 Catherine de’ Medici - 


That is what he ought to have seen. To leave two hostile 
principles at work in a government with nothing to bal- 
ance them isa crime ina King; it is sowing the seed of 
revolutions, It belongs to God alone to leave good and 
evil forever at odds in the work of His hand. But this 
sentence was perhaps inscribed at the foundations of Henri 
TV.’s policy, and perhaps it was what led to his death. It 
is impossible that Sully should not have cast a covetous 
eye on the immense possessions of the clergy—though the 
clergy were not their sole masters, for the nobles dissi- 
pated at least two-thirds of the Church revenues. Sully 
the Reformer owned Abbeys nevertheless.’ She pansed, 
to think, as it seemed. 

*<«But does it occur to you,’ said she, ‘that you are 
asking a Pope’s niece her reason for remaining Catholic ?’ 
—Again she paused—‘ And, after all, I would just as 
soon have been a Calvinist,’ she went on, with a gesture 
of indifference. ‘Can the superior men of your age still 
think that religion had really anything to do with that 
great trial, the most tremendous of those that Europe has 
been required to decide—a vast revolution retarded by 
trivial causes, which will not hinder it from overflowing 
the whole world, since I failed to stop it.—A Revolution,’ 
said she, with a look of deep meaning, ‘ which is still: 
progressing, and which you may achieve.—Yes, You, who 
_ hear me!’ 

“‘T shuddered.” 

«¢« What! Has no one yet understood that old interests 
on one hand, and on the other new interests, had taken 
Rome and Luther to be theirstandards of battle! What! 
When Louis IX., to avoid a somewhat kindred struggle, 
dragged after him a population a hundred times greater 
than that I condemned to death, and left them in the 
sands of Egypt, he earned the title of Saint, while I !— 
But I,’ she added, ‘ failed.’” 

“She looked down and stood silent fora minute. It 


“ 


Catherine de’ Medici S834 


was no longer a Queen that I beheld, but rather one of 
those Druidesses of old who sacrificed men, and could un- 
roll the pages of the future while exhuming the lore of 
the past. But she presently raised her royal and majestic 
face. 

««« By directing the attention of the middle classes to 
the abuses of the Roman Church,’ said she, ‘ Luther and 
Calvin gave birth in Europe to a spirit of investigation 
which inevitably led the nations to examine everything. 
Examination leads to doubt. Instead of the faith indis- 
pensable to social existence, they brought in their train, 
and long after them, an inquisitive philosophy, armed with 
hammers, and greedy of destruction. Science, with its 


false lights, sprang glittering from the womb of heresy. — 


Reform in the Church was not so much what was aimed 
at as the indefinite liberty of man, which is fatal to power. 
I have seen that. The result of the successes of the Re- 
formers in their contest against the priesthood—even at 
that time better armed and more formidable than the 
Crown—was the destruction of the monarchical power 
raised with so much difficulty by Louis XI. on the 
ruins of feudality. Their aim was nothing less than the 


annihilation of Religion and Royalty, and over their wreck - 


the middle classes of all lands were to join in a common 
compact. Thus this contest was war to the death be- 
tween these new allies and ancient laws and beliefs. The 
Catholics were the representative expression of the ma- 
terial interests of the Crown, the Nobility, and the Priest- 
hood. 

«© «Tt was a duel to the death between two giants; the 
night of Saint-Bartholomew was, unfortunately, only a 
wound. Remember that, to save a few drops of blood at 
the right moment, a torrent had to be shed at a later day. 
There isa misfortune which the Intelligence that looks 
down ona kingdom cannotavert ; that, namely, of having 
no peers by whom to be judged when he sueeumbs under 


q 


342 Catherine de’ Medici 


the burden of events. My peers are few; fools are in the 
majority ; these two propositions account for everything. 
If my name is held in execration in France, the inferior 
minds which constitute the mass of every generation are 
to blame. 

«<< In such great crises as I have been through, reign- 
ing does not mean holding audience, reviewing troops, and 
signing decrees. I may have made mistakes; I was but 
awoman. But why was there no man then living who 
was superior to the age ? The Duke of Alva had a soul 
of iron, Philip II. was stultified by Catholic dogmas, 
Henri [V. was a gambler and a libertine, the Admiral 
was systematically pig-headed. Louis X{. had lived too 
soon ; Richelieu came too late. Whether it were virtuous 
or criminal, whether the Massacre of Saint-Bartholomew 
is attributed to me or no, I accept the burden. I shall 
always stand between those two great men as a visible 
link in an unrecognized chain. Some day paradoxical 
writers will wonder whether nations have not sometimes 
given the name of executioner to those who, in fact, were 
victims. Not once only will mankind be ready to im- 
molate a God rather than accuse itself! You are all ready 
to shed tears for two hundred louts, when you refuse 
them for the woes of a generation, of a century, of the 
whole world! And you also forget that political liberty, 
the peace of a nation, and science itself are gifts for which 
Fate demands a heavy tax in blood !’ 

**«« May the nations never be happy at less cost ?’ cried 
I, with tears in my eyes. ~ 

*«*Great Truths leaye their wells only to find fresh 
vigor in baths of blood. Christianity itself, the essence 
of all truth, since it proceeds from God, was not established 
without martyrs. Has not blood flowed in torrents ? 
Must it not forever flow ?—You will know—you who are 
to be one of the builders of the social edifice founded by 
the apostles. As long as you use your instruments to 


Catherine de’ Medici 343 


level heads, you will be applauded ; then, when you want 
to take up the trowel, you will be killed.” - 

*«* Blood ! blood! ’—the words rang in my brain like the 
echo of a bell. 

«** According to you,” said I, ‘ Protestantism has the 
same right as you have to argue thus ?’ 

‘* But Catherine had vanished as though some draught 
of air had extinguished the supernatural light which 
enabled my mind to see the figure which had grown to 
gigantic proportions. I had suddenly discerned in myself 
an element which assimilated the horrible doctrines set 
forth by the Italian Queen. 

«*T woke in a sweat, and in tears; and at the moment 
when reason, triumphing within me, assured me in her 
mild tones that it was not the function of a King, nor 
even of a nation, to practise these principles, worthy only 
of a people of atheists—— ” 

‘*And how are perishing monarchies to be saved ?” 
asked Beaumarchais. 

*« God is above all, Monsieur,” revlied my neighbor. 

‘Well, then,” said Monsieur de Calonne, with the 
flippancy which characterized him, “‘ we have always the 
resource of believing ourselves to be instruments in the 
hand of God, as the gospel according to Bossuet has it.” 

As soon as the ladies understood that the whole scene 
was a conversation between the Queen and the lawyer, 
they had begun whispering. Indeed, I have spared the 
reader the exclamations and interruptions with which they 
broke into the lawyer’s narrative. However, such phrases 
as, ‘‘ What a deadly bore!” and ‘‘ My dear, when will he 
have done ?” reached my ear. 

When the stranger ceased speaking, the ladies were 
silent.' Monsieur Bodard was asleep. The surgeon being 
half drunk, Lavoisier, Beaumarchais, and I alone had 
been listening ; Monsieur de Calonne was playing with 
the lady at his side. 


> 


344 Catherine de’ Medici 


_ At this moment the silence was almost solemn. The 
light of the tapers seemed to me to have a magical hue. 
A common sentiment linked us by mysterious bonds to 
this man who, to me, suggested the inexplicable effects 
of fanaticism. It needed nothing less than “the deep 
hollow voice of Beaumarchais’ neighbor to rouse us. 

“*T too dreamed |” he exclaimed. 

I then looked more particularly at the surgeon, and 
felt an indescribable sentiment of horror. His earthy 
complexion, his features, large but vulgar, were the exact 
expression of what I must be allowed to call la canaille, 
the rough mob. A few specks of dull blue and black 
dotted his skin like spots of mud, and his eyes flashed 
with sinister fires. The face looked more ominous perhaps 
than it really was, because a powdered wig @ la frimas 
crowned his head with snow. 

“That man must have buried more than one patient,” 
said I to my neighbor. 

«©T would not trust my dog to his care,” he replied. 

*T hate him involuntarily,” said L. 

*«T despise him,” replied he. 

** And yet how unjust !” cried I. 

“Oh! bless me, by the day after to-morrow he may be 
_ as famous as Volange the actor,” replied the stranger. 

Monsieur de Calonne pointed to the surgeon with a 
gesture that seemed to convey, ‘‘ This fellow might amuse 
us.” 

*« And did you too dream of a queen?” asked Beau- 
marchais. 

*« No, I dreamed of a people,” said he with emphasis, 
making us laugh. “I was attending a patient whose leg 
I was to amputate the next day—— ” 

“And you found a people in your patient’s thigh ?” 
asked Monsieur de Calonne. 

‘* Exactly so!” replied the surgeon. 

** Ts not he amusing ?” cried Madame de Genlis. 


Catherine de’ Medici "845 


“<T was greatly surprised,” the speaker went on, never _ 
heeding these interruptions, and stuffing his hands into 
his breeches pockets, ‘‘ to find some one to talk to in that. 
leg. I had the strange power of entering into my patient. 
When I first found myself in his skin, I discerned there 
an amazing number of tiny beings, moving, thinking, 
and arguing. Some lived in the man’s body, and some in 
his mind. His ideas were creatures that were born, grew, 
and died ; they were sick, gay, healthy, sad—and all had 
personal individuality. They fought or fondled. A few 
ideas flew forth and went to dwell in the world of intellect. 
Suddenly I understood that there are two worlds—the visi- 
ble and the invisible universe ; that the earth, like man, 
has a body and asoul. A new light was cast on nature, 
and I perceived its immensity when I saw the ocean of 
beings everywhere distributed in masses and in species, 
all of one and the same living matter, from marble rocks 
up to God. A magnificent sight ? In short, there was a 
universe in my patient. When Winserted my lancet in his 
gangrened leg, I destroyed a thousand such beings. —You 
laugh, ladies, at the idea that you are a prey toa thonsand 
creatures—— ” 

“* No personalities,” said Monsieur de Calonue, ‘‘ speak 
for yourself and your patient.” 

*« My man, horrified at the outcry of his animalcules, 
wanted to stop the operation; but I persisted, telling 
him that malignant creatures were already gnawing at his 
bones. He made a motion to resist me, not understanding 
that what I was doing was for his good, and my lancet 
pierced me in the side——” 

** He is too stupid,” said Lavoisier. 

‘*No, he is drunk,” replied Beaumarchais. 

‘* But, gentlemen, my dream has a meaning,” cried the 
surgeon. 

“Oh, oh!” cried Bodard, waking, ‘‘ my leg isasleep ! ” 

“Your animaloules are dead,” said his wife. 


346 Catherine de’ Medici 


“That man has a vocation,” said my neighbor, who 
had imperturbably stared at the surgeon all the time he 
was talking. 

‘* It is to Monsieur’s vocation what action is to speech, 
or the body to the soul,” said the ugly guest. 

But his tongue was heavy, and he got confused; he 
could only utter unintelligible words. Happily, the con- 
versation took another turn. By the end of half an hour 
we had forgotten the surgeon to the Court pages, and he 
was asleep. 

When we rose from table, the rain was pouring in ~ 
torrents. 

“The lawyer is no fool,” said I to Beaumarchais. 

“Oh! he is dull and cold. But you see the provinces 
can still produce good folks who take political theories 
and the history of France quite seriously. It is a leayen. 
that will spread.’’ 

“Have you a carriage?” Madame de Saint-James 
asked me. 

“No,” said I shortly. ‘‘I did not know that I should 
want it this evening. You thought, perhaps, that I 
should take home the Controller-General ? Did he come 
to your house en polisson?” (the fashionable name at the 
time for a person who drove his own carriage at Marls 
-dressed as a coachman.) Madame de Saint-James left me 
hastily, rang the bell, ordered her husband’s carriage, and 
took the lawyer aside. 

‘¢ Monsieur de Robespierre, will you do me the favor of 
seeing Monsieur Marat home, for he is incapable of stand- 
ing upright ?” said she. 

‘‘ With pleasure, Madame,” replied Monsieur de Robes- 
pierre with an air of gallantry ; ‘‘I wish you had ordered 
me to do something more difficult,” 


Paris, January, 1828, 


Catherine de’ Medici © 847 


NOTE 


This is the song published by the Abbé de la Place in his cel- 
lection of interesting fragments, in which may be found the dis- 
sertation alluded to. [It will be seen that it goes to the old tune 
of Malbrouk s'en va-t-en guerre. ] 


THE DUC DE GUISE’S BURIAL 


Qui veut ouir chanson ? (Bis.) 
C’est du Grand Duc de Guise ; 
Et bon bon bon bon, 
Di dan di dan don, 
C’est du Grand Duc de Guise! 
(This last line was spoken, no doubt, in a comic tone.) 
Qui est mort et enterré. 


Qui est mort et enterré. (Bis.) 
Aux quatre coins du poéle, 

Et bon bon bon bon, 

Di dan di dan don, 
Quatre gentilshomm’s y avoit. 


Quatre gentilshomm’s y avoit. (Bis.) 
L’un portoit son grand casque, 

Et bon, etc. 
Ei Vautre ses pistolets. 


Et l’autre ses pistolets, (Bis.) 
Et lVautre son épée, 

Et bon, etc. 
Qui tant @ Hugw’nots a tués 


Qui tant d’Hugw’nots a tués. (Bis.) 
Venoit le quatriéme, 

Et bon, etc. 
Qui étoit le plus dolent. 


Qui étoit le plus dolent ; (Bis.) 
Aprés venoient les pages, 

Et bon, etc. 
Et les valets de pied. 


348 Catherine de’ Medici 


Et les valets de pied, (Bis.) 

Avecque de grands orépes, 
Et bon, etc. 

Et des souliers cirés. 


Et des souliers cirés, (Bis.) 

Et des beaux bas d’estame, 
Et bon, etc. 

Et des culottes de piau. 


Et des culottes de piau. (Bis.) 
La cérémonie faite, 

Et bon, eto. 
Chacun s’alla coucher. 


Chacun s’alla coucher: (Bis.) 

Les uns avec leurs femmes, 
Et bon, eto. 

Et les autres tout seuls. 


The discovery of these curious verses seems to prove, to a cer- 
tain extent, the guilt of Théodore de Béze, who tried to mitigate 
the horror caused by this murder by turning it to ridicule. The 
principal merit of this song lay, it would appear, in the tune. 


THE END. 


Tipe 
ca 
ne 


S 
— 





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= SS 
SS 

oe oe 

——————S 

— > 
ener —: rnc 
—= 
== ———— 
: = —— 
— SS 
<= SS 
= ————— 
Se 
ae SS 
ee 
= ————— 
= ——— 
eee a 
= SS 
= SS 
= = oS 
oe i 
Serene Se 
SS — eer 
= = =e 
——— : 
SS ——— 
oe ee 
————— — oo 
—— ee 
eee eee 
ee 
—————— 
——— eee 
————————— eS ——————————————— 
——— oo 
——————— ——— 
————— i 
——— oo 
————, = 
= — — 
aortas > 
: —— 
<=. —— 
SS 
——— = 
esos’ ee 
ee ee 
SS 
———== ————— 
~ SSS SS 
————— 
=—— 
= oo 
—————— 
—— ————— 
SS ———— 
== 
—=—— oo 
= —— 
== 
—= —— 
_ a ne ee Re ee ee er enn 
PSE —= —————— 
ae 
eS 
—— eee 
== 
TS ~ ee 
a 
See 
———————— 
oe 
———— ree ne ee inaeies 
<= Se 
et 

SS 

Se 

_ ee re + + mn ern ener ee 

aard eee 
= 

eee 

- SSS eee 
ees 

a ences 

oo 

eras 

a a ee 

ee Sete 














4 
































































































































= 
= 
<= EEE 
= Sat 
pate Se 
aera eraet 
Se ON ERNE 
EEE 
= SS 
——S——————————S 
-— ee cheetadgtledeten sen stnetpthemsectesnaraccee=agee 
— Senin 
= Seneca neers 
————— 
Sore eee 



































